X over Y
by YourDarkMistress
Summary: One tiny, microscopic change permanently alters the course of history. Prussia is unhappily engaged, Austria fights his own feelings, and Hungary starts a war. Genswap.
1. Chapter 1

Full summary: One tiny, microscopic change permanently alters the course of history. Prussia is unhappily engaged, Austria fights his own feelings, and Hungary starts a war. All must make decisions they would rather not, be it turning a blind eye to murder or stabbing a friend in the back. Genswap.

Note: By Genswap, I mean that I have 'swaped' two character's genders. You will find out who in all due time, though you've probably already guessed. There will be blood, talk of the menstrual cycle,_ more_ cursing and perhaps attemted rape in later chapters. You know the drill; Don't like, Don't read.

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><p>It was a bright and sunny day, something that the king found to be quite ironic. Rain would have better suited the mood. Even a light covering of clouds would prove to be more fitting than the bright, sparkling sun that peeked over the hills. He sighed. This was going to be hard enough as it was and he certainly didn't need the weather to mock him too.<p>

A stifled shout was heard from somewhere on the other side of the door, the ripping and pulling and straightening finally getting to the nation inside. Friedrich had to give his charge credit; he himself would have been begging for mercy hours earlier. He had been blessed with a strong nation.

Hopefully strong enough for what was to come.

They would both need to be.

After a few more minutes of aimlessly staring out the window, the door finally opened and one of the maids stepped out, closing it quietly behind her. Freidrich stood a tad straighter and tried his best to not look too unapproachable. "How did it go?" He asked as casually as he could. The maid sighed, flattening the wrinkles in her pink dress.

"The deed is done, Sir. Quite well. You will be beyond pleased with the results." Freidrich frowned slightly. He was often given responses such as those when on the subject of his nation and they were usually used in jest, the nation's behavior beyond famous to those who worked in the palace. Now, however, was not a time to enjoy a good joke at _anyone's_ expense, especially not Prussia's.

"Am I to accept that as an answer?" He asked sternly, any attempts at nonchalance falling like leaves in autumn. His arms crossed tightly over his chest and his foot tapped against the cold stone floor.

"N-no, Sir! I-I mean yes Sir!" The maid stuttered, curtsying lowly. "I-it truly has been done well. There was surprisingly little resistance."

The king frowned. Little resistance? That didn't sound like the Prussia he knew at all. "Did you put something in this afternoon's tea then?" He queried, his foot taping more and more quickly as his patience began to thin.

"No sir! I-I believe your lectures have finally began to sink in, is all!"

Noticing her tight and frightened demeanor, the king sighed. Fine. Obviously the maids were just as tightly wound as he was, and he would be unable to work any information from this one if she was in such a state. Running his fingers along the side of his powdered wig, he dismissed her. If he was going to know of the condition of his Nation he was going to have to go in there and see for himself.

Positioning himself directly in front of the door to the 'Awesome Prussian Lair', he knocked sharply.

And received no reply.

He expected as much.

Again, he knocked, this time louder, and accompanied his knocks with a beckoning call. "Prussia? May I come in?"

A muffled "No!" and the sounds of shifting fabric greeted him from around the other side. Well, at least he knew that he was not being ignored, which was better than many other similar situations he could site from his 38 years.

"Come now, please let me in." Another 'no' rang through the air, this time sterner, harder, and with more conviction. "If you do not acquiesce I plan on coming in any way," He informed. When he heard nothing from beyond the door he turned the knob and pushed his way in.

Prussia's bedroom was a curious place. Though it very closely matched the nation's personality, it didn't match the part of it that was openly displayed. The feisty nation always tried to project an air of power, cockiness, and a devil-may-care attitude, but inside was just as soft and malleable as any other. The room was filled to the brim with hundreds of years of do-dads and knick-knacks that were likely picked up off of traders or bartered away from gypsies in the many military campaigns the nation had been on. The armoire was large and friendly in appearance, worn from years of use yet more vintage than out of style. The rugs were made of the finest Chinese silk and the curtains that hung by the large, open balcony were hand woven. The frame of the body mirror was intricately carved to mimic the vines that one would find in an untamed forest, painted green and white by what Friedrich could only assume were exceptionally skilled hands.

The hour-glass shaped mannequin in the corner of the room presently donned Prussia's preferred uniform, which meant that the nation would be wearing what Freidrich had picked out.

There were stuffed toys piled on a large, canopy bed bordered by royal purple and red veils to symbolically protect that who slept within. Who was currently attempting to hide amongst its perfectly fluffed pillows.

Freidrich sat on the edge of the large bed, causing the other side to puff up slightly, exposing the top of the nation's head. "Sit up," the new king commanded, knowing full well that the nation did not plan on listening. He decided to try using flattery, knowing that a good ego-stroking usually led to a compliant Prussia. "Come on, sit up. Let me see that beautiful face." As he predicted, Prussia began to move, slowing pushing up and them twisting around to face the king.

Fredrich smiled. "Much better," he said, standing up and moving towards the body mirror. "Now let's go look at the whole thing, shall we?" Prussia moaned again but nonetheless complied, moving to stand next to the king. Freidrich put his hands on her shoulders and smiled, looking the form he so adored over in the mirror.

She truly was beautiful.

A smile worked its way onto the ruler's lips. "Would you look at that? There _was_ a woman under all of that leather and metal after all." Prussia did not respond in kind. He would have expected something along the lines of him not having a man under all of his lace and 'general froofy-ness'.

The dress was long and tinted blue with a sturdy, lacy bodice. The trim of the bodice was a dark, Prussian blue as well as the cuffs of the long sleeves and the embroidered eagle near the bottom. Golden buttons held the collar closed and trailed down a few inches between her breasts, the very same buttons serving as cufflinks and fastens for the back. It was beautiful on the rack but even more so on such a beautiful woman. And was she wearing a corset, too? Friedrich would have to congratulate the maid from earlier. It was surprising she was still alive after all she had put this feisty knight through.

Her figure was slight but not too delicate, just what a man of the day looked for in a woman, and her face was as radiant as the morning sun. The cherry red paste spread across her lips made her look even younger than her body pretended to be, the rouge on her cheeks doing the same. Her long, platinum-blond hair was still a disaster but that was most likely because of Prussia's apparent attempt to asphyxiate herself in her pillows.

"You are stunning," He told her, cupping her cheek with a gloved hand. "A real catch."

"I know." She spat, pouting. "I'm fucking gorgeous. Most beautiful woman alive. Most eligible bachelorette. Yadda yadda."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Friedrich said, choosing to ignore her less-than-amiable choice of wording.

"It _is_ a bad thing, Fritz!" She exclaimed, turning away from her reflection to face him. "How the hell is that stuck up, sexually frustrated, piano-screwing _priss_ going to resist this fine piece of ass?" She gestured to herself and swayed her hips a little bit for emphasis. Fritz couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction to all of this. It was so utterly _Prussia_ that he shouldn't have been surprised in the slightest. "Are you laughing? This isn't funny." She stomped loudly before falling to the ground and crossing her arms with a loud 'harumph'.

But it was funny. It was oh, so funny. Not only Prussia, but the whole situation. The fact that the female nation had even consented to _considering_ to agree to such a proposition was a miracle in itself, the actual execution of the deal something having have been channeled through divine intervention. And Friedrich, who had sworn years ago at the grave of his dearest confidant never to marry, was going to be going through with it as well. He couldn't help but laugh heartily at them both.

That is, until he heard a loud sniff from where his nation sat on the floor. She wasn't…crying, was she? No, no she couldn't, wouldn't…but she was, he realized as he crouched beside her.

He rubbed her shoulder for a minute before finally sitting beside her and pulling her into a warm embrace. She didn't shy away; rather, she pressed her face into his shoulder and allowed herself a moment of weakness. There was no sobbing or whining, only silent tears.

Friedrich had learned early on that Prussia was not an emotional nation. She was strong and proud and extremely self-dependent, probably stemming from the time she spent in her youth masquerading as a boy. She tried her very hardest to show no fear, to allow nothing to shake her, but deep down, underneath all of that, she had real, tangible emotions. Very strong ones at that. It was rare that she express them so openly. Friedrich assumed that he was the only person on the planet to ever have the opportunity to see her at her weakest.

"I don't want to marry him, Fritz." She whispered once she regained her composure and began to wipe the saline tears from her eyes. "I really don't."

So that was what this was about. It all made sense. Historically, the two were rarely on good terms, and from what he had heard, Austria himself was more than a little snobbish. Prussia was so independent that the mere idea of being bound eternally to another was probably devastating, but to a man she had little – if no – interest in? He could only imagine how she was feeling.

"You may not even have to," Fritz consoled. "They could say no. And let's not forget that you're not the only one selling their soul with this deal. I have to actually _ask_ for a Lady's hand, you simply have to hold out yours and hope Austria takes it."

"But I don't _want_ him to take it, Old Man. I want him to laugh in my face and turn me away."

The king rolled his eyes. "As do I, my dear. You know I only ever want what is best for you." He released his hold on the girl and rose to his feet helping her up with a hand on her elbow and her waist. He pretended not to hear the mumbled 'that's what I'm afraid of'. "Think about it for a second though; do you really think that they would accept our proposition?"

Prussia considered this. Fritz was going to offer to the young Duchess his hand in marriage in exchange for her stepping out of the succession. If all went according to plan, the marriage would be sealed with a military alliance between the Kingdom of Prussia and the Austrian empire. Though the two human representations would not be married under the name of the church, politically they would be forced to unite, to spend their days together, to share a bed, to sign a piece of paper promising fidelity and everything else that a marriage entailed. It may as well have been a marriage. For all intents and purposes, Prussia and Austria would have to be considered an item.

But…

Though Prussia had never met the duchess before, she had heard stories of her steadfast assurance and against-the-grain attitude. Though Prussia as a nation disagreed with her succession to regency, the king was aware that Maria Beilschmidt envied her for her bravery in the face of such a chauvinistic world.

In other words, there really was no way that this whole marriage thing was actually going to happen. Maria Theresa would not allow it. No, she – of the mighty Hapsburg family – would stand her ground and say 'No!' to marriage and subservice to a man, thereby solving Prussia's (and Friedrich's) problem for her (them).

She smiled.

As did Fritz. He had come to this conclusion long ago, when he had first proposed the idea. He was obligated to go through with it, however, not only to show the rest of Europe that he would rather settle arguments peacefully than with violence but as his own private jab to the ways of his dead father. He was desperate to prove himself to be the better man, and this was just the way to do so.

"Alright," the nation said. "I feel a little better about this now." She frowned, however, and shifted around in her dress, reaching her hand in through the top and pulling her breasts up a bit. "But damn, this is so fucking uncomfortable. Somebody needs to find a way to keep my boobs up. Seriously, without the bandages I look like a fucking grandma."

Fritz sighed at the familiarity of it all and took her hands in his own. Their eyes met and he spoke; "You could never look like a grandma, my precious child." Prussia blushed as he pressed his lips to her knuckles. He took his duties as the first servant of his state exceptionally seriously. "And I'll have you know that most women don't bind themselves like you do. They learn to deal with having breasts."

The Prussian's face burned red and she opened her mouth a little to lick her lips, but closed it abruptly when she remembered the lipstick. "Yeah, well, I'm not most women."

Friedrich chuckled. "No, my dear, you most certainly are not. Now come, let's fix up this mop before we head out." He fingered her silky white hair and pulled a knot around for her to see.

"It's not a mop! And I don't feel like it. If you want to, there's a brush on my end table." She turned her head away and suddenly found her freshly manicured nails more interesting than he. Obviously, this was one of Prussia's many 'cries for affection', as Friedrich had dubbed them. Prussia was boisterous and loud but prone to illusions of disconnectedness. She craved touch as a bear did honey and Fritz was very inclined to indulge her. If, for some obscure and incomprehensible reason, their proposition was accepted, it would be a very long while before the two next shared a moment of such intimacy.

After retrieving the brush, the king led his nation to her bed and took seat behind her. With slow, even strokes, he brushed through her waist-length locks, following the brush with his fingers to be sure all of the knots were gone. Prussia sighed and leaned into his touch, humming contentedly. It took a while for the king to finish, but when he did he was quite pleased with his work. Before he announced the completion of his task, he pulled a ribbon off the side of Prussia's end table and used it to sweep her hair into a long, silver ponytail, leaving her bangs to frame her face.

"There," he said. "All done."

"You sure?" Prussia asked, rubbing the side of her face into his shoulder. "I think it's still a bit messy."

"Believe me dear, it is not nearly as messy as it was. And you really wouldn't be you without a few fly-aways and tangles."

"Mmm, I don't want fly-aways and tangles."

Friedrich scoffed. "You don't want fly-aways and tangles? Since when have you ever cared abou-"

"I'd much rather have _you_." Fritz's eyes widened and his face began to heat up.

"No no," he scolded, trying to discreetly put some distance between he and his nation. This type of comment often led to actions which led to…well, the cultured gentleman would not speak of it. "None of that. We have to be going. It will take quite a while to get to Austria and I promised-"

Suddenly, the platinum-blond turned on him, her carmine irises boring into his head. "But Fritz," she said, pouting in a way that made her almost irresistible to the king. "I want to. And who knows? This could be the last opportunity we ever have. You wouldn't pass it up, would you?"

The king backed up, pushing himself into the backboard of the bed frame. Prussia attempted to crawl sultrily towards him but was hindered by her dress and forced to simply skooch. As swiftly and with as much grace as he could muster, Friedrich pushed himself off of Prussia's bed, landing with a thud on her floor. He stood up quickly as to not be followed down and straightened himself out, dusting his trousers with his hands. By the time he looked up again, Prussia was on him, her poufy dress pushing painfully against his chest and lungs as she forced him up against a wall. In all of his years of knowing the finicky Germanic nation he had learned that despite her small stature she was incredibly strong and often overpowered him. He had found himself under her on more than one of their raunchier, erm, _escapades. _Actually, he found himself under her in _most_ of their escapades, and was often the one sore afterwards. So he was perfectly aware of how fruitless fighting against her would be. Not that he ever really minded.

And as delicious as the idea was, Friedrich knew that now was not the time. Not at all. He had – no, _they_ had a place to be, were both ready now, and would not have time to re-do themselves. "Maria-" He started, than flinched when he realized that using her birth name would only serve to further excite her. "Prussia, dear, we mustn't get ahead of ourselves. We simply do not have the time to…" The nation smiled innocently at him – a smile that honestly didn't fit her overall disposition – and traced his jaw line with her index finger. He pressed his head farther into the back of the wall to avoid her touch. "If you take off that dress and corset we're going to have to go through the process of putting it all on again!"

This stopped the sultry woman. The unfitting smile fell from her lips and she straightened herself out, her brows furrowing together as the gears turned in her mind. After a minute she sighed and pulled herself completely away. Fritz sighed in relief, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

"I guess you're right. I…I don't want to have to go through that again." She shuddered.

Fritz pulled himself from the wall and straightened his wig. "Of course I'm right," he squeaked before clearing his throat and repeating himself. "I am the king, after all. I'm right by default." The nation rolled her eyes.

"Now, let's be going. If we hurry we'll be able to sneak some sweet things from the kitchen for the trip," He continued, reached out to take his nation's hand. Prussia appeared ready to take it but instead pulled away and darted to the mannequin in the corner on the room. She slid the sheath of her rapier out from her belt and into the silken ribbon tied around her waist and pulled her bicorn hat from the doll's lifeless head. She held it faithfully in front of her as she returned to grab Friedrich's hand and drag him out of the room after her.

She glanced behind her to see Friedrich staring at her with a curious expression and answered his unasked question. "You don't think me fool enough to go unarmed, do you? Proposition or not, I can't look weak in front of that prissy-pants pianist."

"No, no," he said, shaking his head and stumbling over his own feet. "I understand the sword. Why the hat?"

She smiled widely and her lipstick cracked, "To remind him I'm not a lady."

"How is a hat going to remind him that you're not a lady?" He asked as he regained his balance and quickened his pace. He received only hearty laughter ending in a stifled snake-like cackle that, to him, was more frightening than feminine.

Friedrich rubbed the bridge of his nose in agitation. How much longer was this going to take, exactly? How much longer did he need to be in this tiny, enclosed space with his hyperactive, extremely bored nation? He knew for a fact that _any_ amount of time would probably be too long. Already they had been traveling for what seemed like more than a lifetime and Prussia…oh, dear, sweet Prussia. She was fidgeting and squirming and trying her very hardest to sit still but was failing so, so miserably. The agitation was clear on her face as she, for the hundred-thousandth time, unbuttoned the top of her bodice to stick her hand in and pull her breasts into a more comfortable position. Friedrich assumed that this was the nervous habit that had encouraged her to start binding her chest; the habit she usually fell victim to now alternated between biting her nails and tugging at her hair. The king decided that these habits were much less…distracting.

Finally, the king had enough. "Prussia?" He sighed, leaning forward and resting his head in his hands. "Would you be so kind as to _stop that_?" The nation looked up at him questioningly and let her brain process his words. Her lips morphed into a scowl and she pulled her hand out of her dress and re-buttoned it, crossing her legs and leaning farther into the coach seat as she did. Distaste was spelt across her forehead.

"What's got _your_ bloomers in a knot?" She mumbled as she folded her arms and rested her head against the window frame. Her bicorn sat atop her head, pressed firmly against her skull to keep it from flying away. Though Fritz had asked that she pack it along with her change of clothes for the ride back home, she insisted on wearing it the entire trip.

He sighed, sitting up and mimicking her posture but keeping his eyes trained on her. "I really shouldn't dignify that comment with a response."

Prussia scoffed. "You wear bloomers and you know it. I've seen your underwear drawer, and don't try to tell me that those are Wilhelmine's, she classier than letting her brother 'borrow' some."

Friedrich rolled his eyes. "Oh please, for all you know they could be yours."

"Oh _please_," she countered, "you should know that I don't wear bloomers. Stupid." She closed her eyes and leaned into the gentle wind blowing against her face, the lines in her otherwise perfect forehead turning into canyons. Friedrich could only wonder as to what she was thinking about. Whatever it was, it seemed to calm her, as after a few moments the fidgeting stopped and her breathing evened out.

They lapsed back onto silence, both choosing to focus on the comforting vibrations of the carriage as it pulled them into Austria than each other. Friedrich could not help but consider all of the disastrous possibilities. What waited for them in the south…he only barely dared to imagine! Maria Theresa was…she was…oh, he didn't even know! And to top it off he was nervous. Nervous that she would accept his proposal. Nervous that she would not. Either way, it was a loss. He really honestly doubted that the duchess would ever in her right mind accept, but…his nation was still growing. Prussia was still only learning to spread her metaphorical wings and understand that she didn't have to, erhm, as she would say, 'take everyone else's shit'.

But…but moving _out_ of the clutches of Hapsburg control is what he had always strove for, not jumping back into it. Making an alliance with Austria would only cause their interference with Prussian affairs to increase.

…He was really starting to reconsider this whole thing entirely.

The two remained silent for a great many hours. Day turned to night and than day again. They shared a light meal and the sweets they had taken from the kitchens before they left, slept delicately, and for no reason other than to ask for a blanket or another biscuit did they speak to each other. Fritz assumed that it was because of how nervous they both were, or perhaps Prussia was sore at him for making her go through with this, even though it was with her consent. The sun set again and again the two napped, trying not to move too much and ruin their 'costumes'. It rose again. After what seemed like no time at all (in direct contrast to the first part of the ride) the coatchmaster turned around to inform the king that they would be arriving at Austria's personal manor in but two short hours. This sparked soft but important conversation. At least, in the eyes of the king.

"Can you at least try to act something like a lady, just while we speak with the duchess?" Prussia refused to meet his eyes. She glared angrily at the floor of the carriage, her lips curling into a disgusted grimace. "I understand that this will likely be a blow to your ego but it is imperative that you look like you're interested in this, at least for the duchess."

The nation growled softly under her breath, rolling back her shoulders as she tried to adjust her breasts without actually touching them. "I'm _not_ a lady," she stressed, "I don't want to come across as one. I want her to know exactly who she's messing with."

"Believe me, my dear, she knows who she's messing with. Your reputation precedes you. We just need you to…to seem a little more approachable."

"I'm perfectly approachable! If you keep your distance and drop your weapons, I'm happy to have an audience with whoever wants to have an audience."

"You see!" He snapped, gesturing sharply in her direction. "That is the kind of attitude that the duchess can't see!"

Prussia leaned as far forward as she could. Though that was not very far given her current condition, her presence alone was enough to push Freidrich back in his seat. "Listen up, _König_, I don't give a fuck what that woman thinks of me. All I care about is Austria. And he can't see me being weak and-and-and _subservient_ just because someone asked me to," She hissed.

"I'm not asking you to be subservient," He tried to console her, reaching out a hand to pat her shoulder. It was harshly slapped away. "I'm just asking you to be civil. Don't curse, don't insult her or her family, and please, try not to start any fights."

Prussia rolled her eyes, but said nothing right away. She bit her lower lip and scratched at her head. Finally, she looked her king in the eyes and stated with all the conviction she could muster, "I am not a tangerine," Friedrich blinked, taken aback, and opened his mouth to ask _what in the name of the dear Lord was she talking about, _but was silenced by her outstretched hand. "I don't exist to sate you. Just because you need me to act…that way, doesn't mean I will. I'm not going to pretend to be something I'm not, and I am not going to look weak in front of Austria. I don't care what Maria Theresa thinks of me, I don't care what she thinks of you, I don't care what she thinks of my lands, I will not do tricks to impress her." The finality of her tone was sincere, and as she concluded she closed her eyes and gave a stiff nod. Friedrich sighed and nodded as well.

"I understand," He said, "and I have all the more respect for you after seeing how fiercely you defend yourself, but I must ask. Please, please, no fist fights. I would rather us be able to leave Austria in a few days without a war breaking out, if you will." Prussia grimaced again and looked like she was about to deny him, but instead she simply nodded and sighed.

"Fine, Old Man, but you listen here! That priss deserves to have all of his goddamned fingers broken! So if I decide he needs a good thrashing to put him back in his place, so be it! Otherwise…yeah. I'll try not to get into any fights." A pinkish blush spread across her cheeks and she pulled her bicorn over her eyes to diffuse her embarrassment. "But only because it's you who asked."

Fritz smiled softly. Prussia was pig-headed at times and shockingly uncouth, but in his eyes she was absolutely perfect. Everything from her body to her personality was just as it should be. However, there were times when he wished she would act…more appropriately. He wished with all his heart that there was some way he could convey this to her without shoving his foot in his mouth or making it look like he wanted her to change. She often clashed with Wilhemine for that very reason; his sister was always trying to teach Prussia to behave in a way more becoming for a lady of her stature, and though she always meant well, Prussia interpreted it as the princess attempting to remedy some perceived personality deficiency.

And, of course, Prussia denied being a lady. In a way, she was not. She was more male than female when it came right down to it, and more soldier than anything else. He appreciated that, actually, as her military prowess was what had carried him through most of his years he spent under tutelage.

The carriage came to a sudden stop and Freidrich lurched forward. For the first time he noticed that they had finally arrived at the Austrian's manor home. It was large and extravagantly decorated, with gold gates and an excessive flower garden framing the walkway to the large red door on both sides. There were two large birdbaths that he could see, one with an actual self-pumping fountain in the middle. The grass was soft and well-kempt, the kind of lawn Friedrich would have liked to curl up on and stargaze. The house itself looked to be three stories, and if he had to estimate, at least twenty-five rooms. It was a welcoming, natural, earthy brown color and almost radiated 'home'. There were woodcarvings running up most of the surface, carved in a way similar to that of Prussia's bedroom mirror only instead of simple vines there seemed to be everything from musical notes to exotic animals. At some point his jaw must have slipped open because the slap of Prussia's hand against his chin and the painful 'click' of his teeth snapping together brought him back to his senses.

"Prissy-pants is a lousy show-off," Prussia growled as Fritz stepped out of the carriage, the door held open by his driver. He was about to continue forward when he remembered _decorum, Friedrich. Just because Prussia is unwilling to act civilized doesn't mean that I can't distance myself from that. _

He turned around and offered his arm as Prussia stepped out. She simply looked at him disdainfully and turned her nose, grabbing the edges of her dress forcefully and marching forward much in a manner akin to that in which a spoiled princess would deny an ugly suitor. _I suppose, _he though ironically, _that I am not the only one putting on a show. _He rushed forward and fell into pace next to her, linking their arms together and elbowing her slightly in the ribcage. He flinched as his funny-bone came into contact with the hard material of her corset. "Decorum," he whispered, despite their previous conversation. She glared at him from the corner of her eye before adjusting her bicorn with her free hand and turning up her nose even higher.

An Austrian guard stood at the gate, his uniform pristine and his face schooled into an expression of disdain. He pulled open the golden barriers separating the Prussian officials from the Austrian abode and the two, followed closely by the lone servant other than the coachmaster that they had brought with them from Friedrich's own home, began their second great journey of the fortnight. The path up to the door, where they presumed they would be greeted, appeared to be impossibly long. He sighed and glanced over at his nation. She had lowered her chin and now appeared to be biting the inside of her cheek. Her sword hung awkwardly at her side and bounced as she walked, clacking loudly against the ground, where clipped into her belt it would have swung gracefully with her hips. With her free hand, she adjusted her bicorn to sit more at the back of her head then set it at the hilt of her blade. She shook out her hair and settled her gaze straight ahead. If Friedrich didn't know her better he would say that she looked apprehensive, but that was likely only because she wasn't wearing her trademark smirk or that lascivious grin.

Soon they were able to see two blurred figures under the overhang at the front door. One appeared to be a woman, wearing a dress much larger and more uncomfortable-looking than even the one Prussia wore, the other a man of medium stature in decidedly feminine garb.

Something in Friedrich's gut twisted.

Undoubtedly, these were Maria Theresa and Austria. The woman and man he was to 'woo' with his proposition.

As they got closer he was better able to make out their features. Maria Theresa was even smaller than the woman at his arm, her frame delicate and fragile-looking as well as short. Her face was sharp and defined, her blue eyes shining distinctly from her powdered face. Austria was about average height for a man, his chocolate brown hair pushed away from his eyes, the only visible imperfection being a single cowlick near the part, sticking up awkwardly. He wore glasses, the king noted, and had mole near his chin. Or was it a birthmark? He wore a white conductors' coat over a white ruffled shirt. The large lapels were light lavender, matching his strangely colored eyes. Friedrich had never seen anybody with eyes of such a hue before, but then again, he had never seen anybody other than Prussia with eyes the color of blood. Perhaps it was common for those humans who could not die and lived as nations to be oddly colored.

Friedrich leaned over and whispered into his nation's ear; "Does he always dress in such effeminate clothing?"

Prussia scoffed but her gaze did not waver. Somewhere along the way she had made eye contact with her fellow nation and the two were now glaring at each other with all of the ferocity of a pair of hungry wolves. "That's his formal military uniform. Believe me when I say it's not the worst he owns. Damn Hapsburgs."

Though Fritz was well aware of Prussia's hatred of the House of Hapsburg, he had no idea what it had to do with anything. He would soon find out.

By the time they were face to face with the duo, he could almost feel her shake. Be it with fury or fear he could not tell, but he liked to think that perhaps it was both. The duchess cleared her throat.

"Diplomats," she started, her voice low despite her physique. "Welcome to Austria."

Friedrich, ever the gentleman, bowed his head ever so slightly in respect. "It is our honor to be here," he said simply. "You have a beautiful country."

Austria gave a soft snort – it seemed he disliked the Prussians as much as Prussia disliked him – and Maria Theresa shot him a warning glance before continuing the perfunctory civil greeting. "It is our honor, sir, and we thank you."

It was quiet for a moment as the regents waited for their nations to greet each other. The two merely continued their staring contest until Maria Theresa discreetly nudged Austria with her ankle, and he broke their glare for a moment. "Maria," he greeted coldly, his hands clasped tightly behind his back.

"Roderich," she replied. So that was his name. Roderich. Prussia had never before said it in his presence.

"It has been a long time."

"Not long enough," The aristocrat frowned, disgusted.

"I see you have not changed,"

"It seems that you haven't either, Roddy," She rolled the 'R' at the front of the diminutive and he flinched ever so slightly. "You're still as clean under the nails as ever."

"I assume that was an attempt at mocking me." He didn't seem at all insulted, simply resigned and a tad irritated. "Of course, I wouldn't expect an uneducated scoundrel such as yourself to understand the finer points of mockery."

Prussia licked her lips and smacked them together loudly. "You always were a pompous ass," she said simply.

The succeeding silence was about as awkward as walking in on two lovers in a broom closet, but had the regents known it would not have seemed at all out of place.

Their hatred for each other ran deeper than the ocean and farther than the moon.

* * *

><p>AN: Yay! It's finally done! It took me close to a month to write this all out and edit it and everything, and I am so proud of myself :3 Please forgive any mistakes and feel free to point them out; my word count for this in MS Word was 6,271 but when I uploaded it into fanfiction it suddenly jumped up to 6,402 and I don't feel like reading it again for the 90th time tonight, so I'm just winging it. Please feel free to review and give me your opinion on the story and if/how you think I should proceed. Though I know what points A and C look like, point B is conveniently missing :/ Also, Please tell me if you like my Fem!Prussia. I decided to call her Maria because it is my favorite of all of those possible names floating out there (is Julchen really the official one? Because I made it her middle name here, though I haven't said so yet) and I tried to make her just as egotistic as regular Prussia but totally loving being a chick (not a lady, if you caught that).

So please review, if you have the time. It would make my day :)


	2. Chapter 2

**X over Y**

**Chapter 2**

Lunch was tense.

No, Friedrich corrected. That wasn't right at all. It would be much more accurate to say '_of course _lunch was tense', because it was impossible for anything involving Prussia to be executed smoothly and without incident. She simply was not that kind of person. Kingdom. Whatever.

But, she did try her hardest. He gave her as much credit as he could for that.

After the formalities of their unpleasant introduction, Maria Theresa invited the pair of dignitaries into the parlor, where the two regents shared a moment of awkward silence while their respective charges glared daggers at each other. Sometime a few minutes later, Maria Theresa invited to two in for a bit of lunch, considering they must not have had much to eat on their long trip all the way from Konigsberg. Friedrich didn't bother to tell her that they had in fact eaten quite a bit.

Certainly more than she surmised, thanks to Prussia's sticky fingers.

That did not necessarily mean that a free meal would be unwelcome. And hopefully it would provide some insight to the reason behind the Prussia and Austria's open hostility towards each other.

The manor house was even larger on the inside than it was on the outside. High ceilings, brightly-lit corridors and sparse decorating made Friedrich feel much smaller than he was. There were paintings on the walls by what seemed like every famous painter who ever lived, sculptures on pedestals by every famous sculptor. He was awed to say the least; his own palace was darned with banners and flags, not such eloquent masterpieces. A quick glance over at Prussia revealed she did not share his sediments. If the way she held her lip was any indication, she was disgusted by the display. She boded her time by alternately staring as if offended at ever passing masterpiece and at the back of Austria's head. His head seemed to make her angrier than the art.

The repetitive _clack clack clack_ of Prussia's sheath against the floor was the only reprieve from the silence until the quartet reached what was less of a dining room and more of an echo chamber. The only decisive indication that this was in fact a dining room was the rectangular table and set of four chairs situated in the middle.

For the first time, the king noticed that Austria too was carrying a rapier at his hip but only because the man removed it when he sat down. He placed on the floor next to him before seating himself with a flourish. Prussia also removed her rapier, but she placed it on her lap rather than the floor. Her iron gaze met Austria's again, and she ran her tongue over her lower lip. He nodded once as if receiving some unspoken message.

The way the four of them were seated made it so there was no buffer room between the two immortals. Maria Theresa and Fritz sat facing each other as did the other two. The thought rolled through his mind to switch seats with Prussia, but the king would have rather not made a scene.

Not make a scene. The idea was almost laughable.

Surprisingly enough, Prussia was the one to break the awkward silence that again permeated the atmosphere. "So," she said, looking around the room before letting her gaze fall back on the empire in front of her. "Where's my little brother?"

Austria choked on his saliva and cleared his throat. "He…he left some time ago."

Prussia smirked. "You just let him leave? Really Roderich, I never saw you as the kind to let such an important piece walk out on you."

"I would not have!" He defended indignantly before shrinking back somewhat, turning up his nose. "He ran away." His cheeks reddened with a light blush that he tried to ignore.

"Really now, he ran away?" The question was rhetorical, obviously, but Prussia leaned in as though she expected a response. "Pity. For you I mean." She leaned back, folding her arms over her chest triumphantly.

Maria Theresa's brows were drawn together in confusion and she looked to Friedrich for clarification. He shrugged and offered a polite half-smile. He was completely unaware that Prussia had a brother, much less a brother under Hapsburg jurisdiction. _Formerly_ under Hapsburg jurisdiction, if Austria's statement had any truth to it. Whatever Prussia was doing, the king hoped to dear God in heaven that it turned out all right.

"And Feliciano?" She continued, now pretending to examine the underside of her fingernails.

"He is still under my control," the Austrian assured.

"Then where is he?" His blush deepened.

"He… has been spending time with Francis as of late. Something about wanting to see his brother."

Maria Theresa discreetly mouthed what the king assumed to be 'Who's Feliciano?' over the table, and Friedrich shrugged again. Obviously it was one of the other immortals, but he had never heard any of the names of the others save for Maria and now Roderich. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he hadn't even considered that the others even _had_ normal names; Austria was the first whom Prussia had even referred to as such spoken in his presence; the only other immortals that he had met directly were Russia and England, and both were when he had been much younger.

She sighed and smiled. "Pity," she said again. "Though I am surprised you managed to figure out that his name ends in 'O' for a reason."

Perhaps saying that she tried her hardest to avoid confrontation was a bit of an exaggeration, Friedrich would later amend. She _may_ have been baiting him.

To this, the Austrian had no response. He merely cleared his throat and blushed a deeper shade of red. Prussia laughed and twirled one of her forks in her fingers.

Friedrich recognized that he could not allow this to go on. Surely whatever was going to happen next would prove to be disastrous to the whole purpose of their meeting. He struggled desperately to find some – any – other topic to talk about with the duchess and _force_ the nations to spectate rather than allow them to continue to talk. He didn't have to. Within moments, the food was brought out and placed on the table.

The king had to admit, it did look quite delicious. He helped himself to a small bit of everything as did Austria and Maria Theresa, while Prussia saw it fit to pile as much as she could onto her plate. The didn't particularly phase him, as he was used to her eating as such at home, but it seemed to unnerve the other two. Prussia paid them no mind and was soon reaching for seconds.

A fork pinned her sleeve to the table and there was a slight ripping sound.

Austria's eyes widened, unsurprised, and he looked between his fork jabbed into the table and Prussia's face. Her lip was twitching, which Fritz knew meant she was irritated. As much as she detested the dress, she detested insolence with even greater vehemence. The aristocrat pulled his fork out of her clothes and wiped it on his napkin. "I'm sorry," he apologized quietly, not sounding all that sorry. "My hand slipped."

Prussia retracted her hand, grabbing her wrist and pulling at the material. It had ripped and there was now a fairly large tare where the fork had been. Fritz took her wrist from her and examined it gingerly, more for show than anything else. When he kissed the top of her hand he made eye contact with the Austrian, hoping that he conveyed a clear message of _'If you mess with my Maria, you are messing with me.' _

"Its fine," Prussia grumbled, pulling her hand away as he had expected her to. A light blush dusted her cheeks and she turned back to Austria, "Don't let that happen again, Roderich, unless you want someone to stick a fork up your ass along with that pointy baton(1) of yours."

His eye twitched. "I will, so long as you watch how you stuff food into that mouth of yours. Unless, of course, you want someone to suture it shut."

"Is that a threat?"

"It might be."

A smirk worked its way onto Prussia's face. She grabbed a leg of…something, with her bare hand, and brought it up to her mouth. She ripped a huge chunk of meat from it with her teeth and a twist of the neck, and pulled it into her mouth with her tongue. She chewed with her mouth open and made obnoxious smacking noises.

If he were not in the presence of two dignitaries which he had approached with the intent to impress – though he was fairly certain at this point that the effort was in vain – Fritz would have let his forehead smack into the table. It certainly was one of those moments.

After she finished, she turned her chair with an audible screech that sent shivers down Friedrich's spine. She was angled towards Maria Theresa now, and she wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her dress before addressing the duchess.

"So, Maria Theresa," She began wistfully, twirling a lock of hair in her fingertips. "I have heard a lot about you. You're smart, you're dedicated, you're a conniving wench-" Friedrich flinched and noticed that Austria did as well. There was another fire behind his eyes now, one that was protective and fierce, much like the fire he had seen in Prussia's during times of war. "-who likes to stir the pot. But what have you heard about me? I know Austria isn't too fond of me and I wonder what kind of stories he tells you." The smirk on her lips was downright terrifying. She removed her bicorn, hung it off the side of Friedrich's chair, and leaned back so her own was balancing on two legs.

The duchess pursed her lips, acting as though the question bothered her more than the insult. Friedrich assumed she was used to such slander; he himself had undergone similar defamation after he was dragged back from his desperate flight to England as a teen. She opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by Austria, who seemed more than a little aggravated.

"I don't believe that that is an appropriate question, _Preu__β__en_. The information that passes between me and the duchess is just that, and not made for foreign ears." Though the words were cordial enough, the way he spat them fully conveyed exactly how disgusted he was.

"No, no, it's fine," Maria Theresa interrupted, cutting off what was likely going to be an _appropriate_ and _polite_ retort from Prussia. The duchess looked the kingdom in the eyes and moistened her lips. "I understand the curiosity. I too wonder what my most faithful enemy thinks of me." Her gaze darted over the Friedrich and he blushed. She considered him her most faithful enemy? Why, they hardly even know each other yet! He didn't know if he should be honored or insulted.

"So you'll tell me what prissy-pants says about me?" Prussia said doubtfully. Maria Theresa nodded. "Well, come on, out with it then!"

Austria, a look of confusion on his features, nudged the duchess, who merely brushed him off. "Austria says many things about you, most often about how much he hates you." Prussia laughed. "He calls you a mongrel, a deviant, a bitch, and a heathen. He says you're heartless, relentless, annoying, uncouth, and wholly intolerable on top of being an evil temptress who uses her body to get others to give her what she wants. There is, of course, a lot more, but I could go on and on." Prussia laughed again, turning her chair back to face Austria.

"You really need to get a bit more creative, _Roddykinns_, I at least go for things that you haven't been called by your own father." This, Friedrich knew, was a ploy. Prussia often spoke of how she had once had an almost amiable relationship with her father for the few years she knew him and that though he had considered her a pest…and annoying…and she did convert to Christianity so maybe he might have called her a heathen…but he certainly never called her an evil temptress! It was _still_ an obvious ploy, all things considered, and Roderich took the bait.

"Really?" he fumed, turning in his seat to face the king. "Well, _Your Highness_? What exactly does _Mitzi_ call me when I'm not around?"

Prussia's hands balled into tight fists. "Don't call me that."

"I'll call you what I will," he said, not turning to look at her.

Fritz licked his lips, looking to Prussia for permission. She nodded once sharply. He could tell she was biting the inside of her cheek. "She calls you a sexually frustrated and uptight slave-driver who would rather take a kick to the groin than get dirt under his nails, primary because there is not too much to damage down there," Roderich's eyes widened but Friedrich was hardly done. "She also says that you spend more time in the music room than leading armies – a cowardly hobby – and that the only things you've ever had intercourse with are your hands and a hole in your piano bench."

In a fraction of a second, Roderich's face had gone from pale white to beet red. "_Mitzi," _he ground out, teeth clenched. He ignored her repeated 'Don't call me that'. "I do believe that those are very inappropriate things to call gentleman."

Prussia laughed and picked between her front teeth with her pinky nail. "Yeah, they are. I guess it's good that the only gentleman here is the unshakeable Fritz, huh? Because all I see are a wench and her consort. No offence to you, Mrs. _Hapsburg_, I respect you."

"What a coincidence," Roderich said, his voice level but with significant malice to convey his blind rage. "Because all I see are an extortionist and his cunt."

For as long as Friedrich had known her, Prussia had been able to withstand a truly extraordinary amount of slander. However, she had never responded well to that particular word. _'It implies I only exist to be a sex toy for a man,' _she had explained when he questioned her. _'And you know from experience, I am no sex toy.'_ His head snapped to look at his kingdom. Her lips pulled back over her teeth in a dangerous show of hostility, her hands shaking a little as she began to loose control of herself. Just as he moved to place a hand under her chin and force her to look at him, effectively diverting her gaze from the object of her fury, it was over. She was breathing normally and calmly and she was no longer shaking. The change in her demeanor was punctuated by the mute 'thunk' of something imbedding itself into something else.

Again the pallor had drained from Austria's face, his eyes glazed over and frozen straight ahead. Implanted firmly in the wall behind his head was a large meat knife. From what Friedrich could see, it passed not a millimeter to the right of his head. Friedrich had not seen Prussia's arm move.

Prussia looked down to her plate and straightened her back, picking up her fork and beginning to eat at a much slower pace than she had been earlier. "A cunt he calls me," she mumbled under her breath, and Friedrich knew that she was speaking only for his ears. The second part of her statement was even quieter and Friedrich was not sure if he was meant to hear that one at all. "He's lucky he's got such a pretty face."

She ate in silence for a minute before pretending to finally notice the shocked stares the others were giving her. She looked up and blinked innocently with her big eyes. "Oh, I do apologize, Mr. Edelstein sir." She was sarcastic in that her tone wasn't at all sarcastic. She sounded as she might have had she been born and raised a polite and proper human girl of the time. "I believe my hand may have slipped."

Maria Theresa put a concerned hand on Roderich's shoulder and shot Prussia a glare Fritz recognized. It was fiery and it said '_If you mess with my Roderich, you are indeed messing with me._'

Prussia saw this glare as well and she smiled softly. He was sure Maria Theresa did not know, but that smile meant that Prussia was sorry that perceived innocents had to involve themselves in her personal quarrels.

"Come now, Mr. Edelstein, Ms. _Hapsburg_,(2)" she threw a heavy, misplaced, inappropriate backthroat into the 'ah' in Hapsburg, the innocence now gone from her voice. "Eat. The food is quite splendid."

And they did. The knife imbedded somewhere behind Austria's head was not removed and the dance with death had the Austrian calmed down. Prussia was calm as well, having vented all of her anger and stress through that one precise throw. The only conversation was between Friedrich and Maria Theresa and only on trivial and polite topics such as the weather and each other's clothing.

No, Fritz reflected. Prussia had not tried at all to maintain civility. Or perhaps she had, he could not tell, considering he had no other interactions with the blatantly pompous, insolent man before him to base the incident off of.

**~Hetalia!~ **

By the time their meal was completed, a mere twenty minutes later, Prussia was beginning to fidget in her seat. Once or twice she moved as though about to stick her hand down the top of her dress but quickly thought better of it, apparently having enough shame to neglect from adjusting herself in front of another man (or perhaps it was the duchess that caused her sudden humility). Friedrich silently thanked God that there was no food left – he was afraid his kingdom would bust out of her corset if she ate any more. Maria Theresa was the one to first push back her chair, followed silently by Austria, who quickly retrieved his rapier and fastened it to his belt. He pulled the knife out of the wall behind him and with the flick of his wrist stuck it deeply into the hard wood table. Fritz stood next, holding out his hand for Prussia to take. She did not; rather, she stood on her own and wound her arm with his. She hooked her fingers around her bicorn and flipped it on to her head, it tilting forward because of her high ponytail.

"I believe it is time we drop all pretenses and get down to work," Maria Theresa said sternly, lips pressing together into a line at the end of her sentence. "I know that you've come for a reason, Friedrich, and I'd very much like to discuss it."

"Very well," the king said, "I suppose we should, shouldn't we? Prussia if you-"

The duchess cut him off. "I think it would be best if we leave our…countries to their own devices while we discuss terms." The king's brows furrowed and both of the immortals opened their mouths as though they were about to speak but decided better of it. The duchess further explained. "I believe it's been established that civility and impartiality would be a difficult feat if they were involved. Don't you agree, Austria?" The male immortal looked nervously between the two women before nodding.

"She has a point." He said finally, addressing Friedrich. "I don't believe that we'd be able to keep from strangling each other, and I can't be held accountable for my actions if Maria and I are held in the same room for too long."

Prussia sighed. "I guess you do have a point, Ms. Hapsburg." She made sure not to address Austria nor give him any credit. "I do have a perchance for disemboweling and as much as I would like to see dear Roddykins' innards strewn about here and there, I don't think you'd be as elated as I would be."

"You think correctly." He flippantly added; "For once."

Friedrich looked at Prussia, then at Austria, and then at Maria Theresa before building up enough strength to stick out his arm expectantly. "Your, rapier please, Prussia." He said sternly, pretending to be stricter than he was. Prussia looked at him with a kind of amused disbelief.

"You're joking, right?" When he remained unflinching she threw her arms into the air and growled. "You've got to be joking! No way am I being left alone in a house with this jackass –"

"Now wait a minute, if you think for one moment that I would try to take advantage of _you_ of all people-"

"Shut up, Prissypants!"

Friedrich took a deep breath. He knew that Prussia would be the one to start a physical confrontation and her rapier was her primary and most effective means of offence. He didn't doubt that she had a throwing knife or combat dagger tucked away in her dress somewhere but at least she would be wearier if she knew she would be at a disadvantage in a physical fight. Having her leave her rapier with him could mean the difference between war and peace. "Do you want to go home, then?" He asked calmly.

"Yes!" Her arms were crossed over her chest, her chin turned away indignantly.

"Do you like…" He grabbed her arm and pulled her ear up to his mouth. "Do you enjoy intercourse? Because it really does take up a lot of time, time that I could just as easily spend on work." He hissed. Prussia's eyes widened then narrowed.

She pulled away and began unclipping her scabbard from her waist. "You're low. That's just low." She slapped it into his hand and turned away from him angrily, the frills of her dress batting against his legs.

"Thank you, my dear," He said, tucking the weapon under his arm. He looked expectantly at Maria Theresa, hoping she would follow the example he had set.

After a moment or two, she did. "Austria, you too." The aristocrat pouted in a very dignified manner and removed his own rapier, handing it over to his duchess with just a tad of hesitancy.

"What will you have us do in your absence, My Lady?" The Empire asked his duchess condescendingly. "Would you have us eat tea and crumpets and chat politely about the weather? Because I do not believe I could stand to do such a thing."

"Just…go outside, take a walk. I'm certain the fresh air will clear your heads." Austria's mouth gaped and he shook his head incredulously but did not refute. His duchess held the highest position in his mind, it seemed, and he would not disobey her in much the same way that Prussia could not deny Fritz. The King wondered if the nature of Austria and Maria Theresa's relationship held to the same standards as his and Prussia's did.

Prussia scoffed, not turning around. "Oh yeah, fresh air will definitely clear his head, because it's not always full of sawdust and those worthless black dots." Her statement went ignored as Friedrich offered his arm to the Duchess. She did not take it, rather she fell into place in front of him, beckoning in with her finger. He followed gladly.

"You know," he said to her when they were out of earshot of their immortal companions, "We essentially just exchanged the ability for us to keep an eye on those two with the opportunity for one of them to kill the other."

She nodded. "I suppose we did, but I…I do think they should learn to get along. If you are here to discuss what I believe you are, they will have to." She sped up slightly and a knot began to form in Friedrich's stomach.

**~Hetalia!~**

Roderich sighed. The absolute last thing he wanted to do was spend time with this…this mongrel. Of all the people in the world…he prayed that whatever negotiations his Duchess and that filth were having ended quickly.

Maria's navy bicorn clashed painfully with the violet of her dress and he was tempted to swipe it from her, but he felt naked without his rapier and was not too proficient at fisticuffs. He had been beaten up by the female in the past and even bound and gagged in feminine garb as she was, he did not doubt that she would kindly hand him his own behind on a platter should they altercate. Swords matched them evenly but fisticuffs were about the only thing he was willing to admit her proficiency exceeded his own.

And, apparently, knife-throwing, as there was absolutely no way a knife misses so closely, leading him to believe that she had not been aiming for the kill. She loved to play with his fear as he loved to play with the sensitive topics of her gender and sexual promiscuity.

The way they bantered and threw arguments led him to believe that perhaps, had they been born humans and less than a century apart, they may have been friendly rivals rather than bloody foes. The thought made him cringe. In this life, he would never be able to see her as anything more than an obstacle and an impurity on the face of the earth best eradicated.

…She did have a rather nice figure though, he though as he watched her sway impatiently, blocking out the knowledge that this was _Maria _and not anything near a proper lady. He wouldn't call her dainty by any means, but she was close, especially in that…was that a corset? Oh my, she certainly –

He scoffed at himself, patting down the sides of his jacket. It was not the first time he had though such impurities, but nearly every immortal had, he knew. Half of his kind lusted for Maria, the other half for Natalia of Belarus, Ivan of Russia's younger sister, who was twice as beautiful (and twice as unpredictably insane) as Maria. There were others, of course, but they were hardly seen and hardly spoken of. Personally, Roderich more often imagined himself with the cute girl who worked down at the tailor shop than any of the female immortals; he preferred the soft, delicate type to the roughness and callous eternal existence calls for.

"Well?" Roderich flinched, startled. He hadn't noticed that she had turned around. "Are we going outside or are you going to continue to stare at my fine ass for the rest of the day, because if you want to you can kiss it. I wouldn't mind at all, believe me."

"I wasn't staring at your…behind." He defended himself lamely, grimacing. She stood with her hands on her hips, most of her weight on her left foot. The corner of her lip twitched involuntarily and her foot tapped impatiently against the ground. "Rather, I was considering the awful perversion of nature you are and wondering how exactly someone managed to fit an ape into such a lovely dress."

Maria's smile was bitter and she shook her head, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder. "Ah, the compliment that twists like a knife in the intestines. How characteristic, Roderich. And here I'd though you'd gone stale over the years."

"I see you can't think of a proper comeback. If you prefer, I could think of one for you and save you the effort it would take to do so. I'm sure you could fell a forest with that much energy."

"It takes me about the same amount of energy to fell a forest as it takes for you to brush your hair in the morning. Though, that may not be the best analogy, considering all the time you spend primping. Expecting a bride to fall from the sky and hit you on the head? Because even a bride from heaven would turn up her nose at such an effeminate _boy_." Her hand fell to her hip and shrunk back at the distinct lack of scabbard. Obviously having no inkling of an idea of what to do with her hands, she grabbed the folds of her skirt and twisted them around. Roderich had pockets but did not take advantage of them, choosing to clasp his hands together in the small of his back. He too was uncomfortable without a scabbard to grip.

He could not deny her statement and he was not one to lie. "At least I brush my hair," he said after a moment. He left himself open for a myriad of painful and creative comebacks but Maria was not of the quickest tongue and could not think of any.

"Are we going outside or not? I've been sitting for the past 48 hours." The way her eyebrows pulled tightly together created a deep, ugly crease on her forehead that made her look older than she was.

The Austrian sighed. "I suppose so. It would be best to get you out of this house and away from precious and breakable objects that your uncouth self would surely destroy."

"You mean my _awesome_ self." Maria automatically corrected, daring him with her eyes to dissent. He sighed and pushed past her, knowing full well it would drive her crazy to have to follow someone else around.

Wordlessly, Maria followed, hands on her hips and head held high. The clacking of her shoes against the floor was unusually loud, as if they were tap shoes rather than heels. Roderich decided to take her out to the back gardens; there was a small flowerbed and a table with chairs as well as a good view of the woods that extended out to a stream somewhere to the east. There was plenty of room for strolling yet they were still within earshot of the mansion should something go…amiss.

And by amiss, he meant terribly, horribly wrong.

The journey back through the halls and the parlor was tense. Roderich could not help the small smile that crested his face as he looked at the marvels of culture with which he adorned his dwelling. The knowledge that Maria was undoubtedly fuming with hatred over the same artifacts only added to his pleasure.

The air outside was crisp and pleasant, the sun shining a mockery of the tension between the pair. The grass was an unpleasantly vibrant green and the walkways too dry a brown. It was as if a child had painted the scenery to his own tastes; happy and easy with little care in the world. "We'll be passing the gate soon," he said nonchalantly and to no on in particular. He wanted Maria to know that her presence was not something he desired moreover required; she was the woman and he the man, as much as she liked to pretend otherwise. The unusual urge to dominate the Prussian was always there in each and every one of his thoughts and actions.

"I assume there'll be guards. Men."

"Yes, guards usually are men. Men guard both the gates of Hell and the gates of Heaven, in case a heretic such as yourself was unaware."

"The only heretic is you, I assure you(3). And I have no issue with men. They usually have an issue with me, but I've learned to play along." She flicked a stray strand of hair over her shoulder and lengthened her steps, determined, apparently, to keep pace with Roderich though his legs were longer. On most occasions she could overtake him in speed, but physically confined as she was it seemed to be more difficult. He smirked.

"How so? Do you offer your services?" Maria's lip twitched and her grip on the sides of her skirt tightened.

"Oh no, they know better than to allow one such as myself into their beds. I would gut them before they had the chance to pull themselves out. I have simply mastered the rouge of the helpless young maiden, that's all." The way she said it was gloating but there was something in her posture that suggested shame. "I get whatever I want."

Roderich scoffed. "Not Holy Rome. He is mine."

Before it had time to register, Maria had a hand on his throat, the soft pressure against his jugular harmless but threatening. A brief flash of fear crossed his features though the aristocrat remained otherwise composed. "You got lucky, you prickish asshole. I'm not into shit like getting married for power, or else Holy Rome would be mine. Never suggest that it's because I'm weak, got it? Never." There was something dangerous behind her irises that Roderich only ever saw in the heat of battle. It almost made him shrink back. She released him and patted down her dress before continuing on as if she knew where she was going.

Quickly, the Austrian regained his place ahead of her and they continued their journey, the atmosphere tenser than it had been. They reached the gate in a matter of minutes and one of the guards with facial features too haggard to be born Austrian stopped them.

"S'rry Sir," he said with an accent the aristocrat was unable to place. "B't the Duchess's ordered to keep you in the grounds Sir." Roderich frowned but knew better than to command otherwise. If the duchess ordered something it was likely for his own good and he had gotten lost on more than one occasion. She was probably only looking out for him. Between his musings, Roderich hardly noticed Maria working her way ahead of him, removing her bicorn as she approached the guard.

She sniffed twice then looked up at the towering guard with big, watery eyes. They didn't look so devilish when she did that, more of an incandescent ruddy purple than tomato red. It briefly crossed Roderich's mind to ponder as to whether or not they changed colors to match her mood. "Sir," she said softly, her tone similar to that she had used back in the dining room. "Roddy promised to take me out to see the garden. I've been trapped in a carriage for such a long time with nothing beautiful to look at and I would very much love to see it now." Something in the aristocrat's chest contracted. She was putting on quite the display; she sounded like the young girl her body portrayed with all its beauty, her wordplay tugging Roderich's callous heartstrings.

"M'sorry miss, b't what the Duchess says she says." He frowned and placed a large hand on her head, ruffling her hair a little. She sniffed again. Oh, how she was milking him!

"But, please Sir! Miss Duchess need not know! I ever so rarely get to see such beauty as that in such a beautiful Austrian manor and my dear Roderich promised!" The man looked between the begging girl and the aristocrat behind her, failing to notice the bespeckled and amused look on his face, before sighing and motioning for the other guard to step aside.

"Ah s'pose i's alright, so long as this…stays b'tw'n us." Maria smiled and clapped giddily, skipping back to lock her arm into Roderich's and pull him through the gate. The guard called after them; "G'd even'n miss! G'd even'n master Roderich!"

Almost as soon as the gates smacked closed behind them, Maria pushed Roderich away, rubbing fervently at her arm and spitting into the grass. Roderich too rubbed at his now soiled garments. He would never be able to wash the scent of barbarity out. After she regained her composure, Maria smirked cockily, rubbing her fist across her lips in a way that said 'I told you so, didn't I?'.

"We have an actress amongst us," Roderich drawled sarcastically. "A poor one, but the guards around here have never been the brightest. Then again, neither are you."

Maria scoffed, but otherwise said nothing to retort. There was silence until Maria finally stopped, pulling Roderich's shoulder so he was facing her. She focused in on him, eyes back to their usual carmine. "How much farther? I'm tired."

Roderich continued walking, forcing Maria to walk backwards. He briefly considered telling her she was going to fall backwards but decided he would rather like to see it. "Before you were complaining that you were tired of sitting."

"Well yeah, but then I remembered I'm wearing heels and wearing half my weight in petticoats."

"Well, I suppose I don't blame you. Half your weight _is _quite a lot."

"You know what, priss? If I had my rapier you'd be flayed on the ground right about now." Her tone was nonchalant but he knew better. The heel of her shoe caught on the hem of her dress and she tumbled backwards, landing with a thud on the grass. "Fuck!" Her bicorn rolled just out of her reach.

Roderich looked down at her for a moment before stepping deliberately over her and continuing onwards. "Fuck!" Maria said again, pounding her fist against the grass as she struggled to lift herself up.

It took the aristocrat a moment to realize that the reason Maria was not running after him shouting profanities was because she was incapable of righting herself. He glanced over his shoulder to see her trying to roll onto her stomach, perhaps to giver her a position to push herself up from. He internally contemplated leaving her there but his gentlemanly conscience would not allow someone in a dress – Prussian or not – to flail about like a fish on the grass. It really was a lovely dress, and it would be a shame if it was ruined because its wearer was as clumsy as an elephant.

Sighing, he turned around and returned to her side, flipping her onto her back with his shoe. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her up. This, of course, did not go without opposition. Maria screeched and clawed at him, her nails carving pale paths along his arms, but in the end she was righted again. Roderich had to duck a fist she threw angrily at his head. Straight-backed and thoroughly offended, Maria brushed the dirt off her skirt and humph-ed, a blush of combined fury and embarrassment consuming her face. She pointed a finger angrily at the aristocrat; her hair was ruffled and grass stuck to her face. "If you ever touch me like that again," she growled, "I will castrate you with a rusty spoon, tan your ball sacks, and use them as coasters." The threat sounded emptier than usual and Roderich could tell she was resisting the urge to kick him in said ball sacks. She looked around for a moment, her gaze landing on her bicorn, which had blown a ways away. "Shit!" She exclaimed, lifting the sides of her dress and taking off after it.

Roderich too had a bicorn hat, though he only wore his during battle. Maria was protective of hers and wore it almost all of the time, sometimes with and sometimes without the plume. She scurried hurriedly after it as though her life were rolling down a hill away from her, which, had he known, was not overtly far from the truth.

"Bitch!" She shouted, as a gust of wind swept it up and out of her reach, another carrying it away from her at a breakneck pace. She ran after it, one arm raised high in the air while the other scrambled to reach the flyaway hat. "Get back here, you slut!"

Just as he noticed that the hat was flying farther and farther from their destination by the flowers and the lunch table Maria turned around and shouted at him. "Get over here you lousy, good-for-nothing prick! I need that hat!"

Roderich was tempted to leave her to endeavors until he saw the disappointed face of his duchess in his mind. She wagged a finger and sighed, turning her back to him as so many had before her. He shook his head and continued unhurriedly after her. She was captured in a ridiculous dance, pitching herself onto her tip-toes to reach high and bending at 90-degree angles when she needed to reach low, all the while the skirt of her absolutely gorgeous dress fanning out around her. She shouted his name a few more times, each louder and with more fury than the last, until finally he replied "I'm coming! Stop screeching like the simian you are and at least _pretend_ to have civility for once!" She said nothing and continued after her hat.

The scenery changed as the pair reached the forest; manicured grass exchanged for crab weed and groomed pathways for wild flowers. Soon, Roderich too was swept into the dance for the hat. In his mind it became a competition – whoever was to finally retrieve the hat would be supreme, and though it would be a small victory it would be a victory for Austria none the less.

So absorbed he was in 'winning' he didn't notice when his manor house faded out of view and the woods he had planed to look over smacked him in the nose – quite literally.

"Argh!" He rubbed at his cheek and glared angrily at the tree that had so violated it. The trees on the edge of the forest were not as tall or as wide as the trees deeper in but the bark was just as hard. In his negligence, he had failed to notice the quickly approaching greenery. Having been brought back to his senses, he noticed just how far they had strayed.

_I'm not supposed to be this far from the house,_ He thought. _ I tend to get-_

An ear-piercing scream caused him to double over, his hands flying to cover his ears. Maria stood on the edge of the forest, eyes wide, watching as her bicorn was blown up and over the trees. The breeze kicked down and the hat fell somewhere in the woods.

Roderich blinked. He had known Maria for a very long time and never once had he heard her scream with such honest fear in her voice. Not even when he ripped out her finger nails. Not even when he wrote his name in her thigh with a carving knife. She didn't move for a minute or two, only stared at the dense woods before her with wide, horrified eyes. Finally she came to her senses, growling and marching forward.

"Where do you think you're going?" Roderich snapped, his eyes darting between the speck that was his house, the tree he had walked into, Maria, and the woods.

"Where does it look like I'm going? I need that fucking hat." She slowed to a stop and turned to face him, shifting her weight onto her left leg.

"Nowhere fast. You certainly aren't considering going in there after a hat, are you? It's one of a thousand just like it." Something he said must have offended her, because she was on him faster than flies hoarded around decaying flesh.

"There are _no_ other hats like it, alright? Not one in the whole God-damned world." She pushed herself onto the balls of her feet so her nose tapped his. Red orbs pierced violet. There was something just behind the curtain that separated what he understood of Maria from what remained ambiguous. A threat – no, a dare. "I can not and will not loose it."

She turned swiftly to head back towards the woods when Roderich tightly grabbed her shoulder. He fully intended to put her in her place (Who did she think she was? This was Roderich's property, he was simply being gentlemanly enough to show it to her. She was the guest! She did as she was told!) but his nerve weakened at the nearly imperceptible trembles that wracked her frame. "It's just a hat. Get another one. Certainly you have enough money for a simple hat; Mammon makes his home in you, does he not?"

"You would know of Mammon!" She shouted back at him. "It's not my hat, dickhead!" Roderich blinked.

"Not your – "

"What, are you deaf or just retarded? It's not my fucking hat! I'm just borrowing it."

Roderich frowned. "But you've worn it for –"

"I'm borrowing it indefinitely." Her voice softened and she stopped again, just outside the curtain of trees and greenery. "I'm supposed to give it back when the person I've borrowed it from _comes_ back for it." There was something regretful about the way she said it that made him clench his teeth. She was waiting for someone. But who? She had never been married, she had no live family save for Holy Rome. She had a large handful of sexual partners but none so dear she would panic at loosing one of his articles.

Maria paused to take a deep breath before diving into the thick, her dress catching on a few twigs as she disappeared into a sea of bark and greenery.

He _was_ going to let her go alone. But again, the image of his beloved duchess appeared in his mind, her disdainful expression too much to bear. _"Look at you, __Ö__sterreich. You let her get lost in the woods. Way to go, hero." _

He sighed and headed in after her. "Wait up, you'll get lost and I'll have to drag your maggot-ridden corpse all the way back to the manor!" He entered precisely where she did and ran headlong into her. She smirked.

"I knew you were coming."

He fumed and blushed at his own predictability. He avoided her eyes. "Well, go on then. I don't know how long we've been out but it's well past noon – your king will think I've murdered you if we don't return soon, and as much as I would like to I'm not too interested in war at the moment."

The Prussian smirked again, turning around and heading forward.

_Such an odd beast, _The aristocrat thought as he began after her. _Full of wrath and hate and evil, yet fiercely loyal and unusually persistent. _Again, he considered what their lives might have been like had they been born human. Loyalty was something he respected, something he valued.

Maybe they might have been friends.

Maybe he might have been a masochist.

* * *

><p>Notes:<p>

1) By baton I mean those conductors sticks; my orchestra director calls them batons, but I'm not sure if that's what they are officially.

2) Maria Theresa was of the Hapsburg family, which controlled a large part of Europe at the time this story takes place. I'm not sure if she would have been adressed as 'Ms. Hapsburg', but Prussia would do it even if she wasn't just to be insulting.

3) Prussians were Calvinists while Austrians were Catholic, therefore both Prussia and Austria would consider each other heretics. This is one of the reasons why Maria Theresa and Friedrich the Great were not betrothed in actual history. I overlook this fact for the sake of this chapter, but I will go more in depth next chapter.

In case you haven't noticed, I have taken a hellofa lot of creative liberties on this. One, the historical period. This takes place the year that Friedrich the Great becomes king, and lo and behold, both Fritz and Maria Theresa were already married. Ha. I found this out after I started writing. But I 'fixed' it all for next chapter, don't worry. There are lots of others, such as Maria is wearing an English-style dress in Germanic lands, I don't know if heels exist, I don't know if the Prussians and Austrians even used the type of rapier I'm picturing, I don't know if the two countries were at war at the time, I don't know what year Austria-Hungary was created in, I don't know when the Italians started to lobby for unification, and I don't have this following actual historical timeset. That last one I have an excuse for: This is a Hetalia!Historical re-write, so things are not going to follow the same timeline. For all the other inaccuracies, I can only say this; I want this to be believable not realistic. So it has to sound like this could happen, not make sense in actual historical context. Thank you and excuse my rant.

Yeah, not many historical notes in this chapter. If you want clarification on anything, just review or PM me and I'll respond post haste.

**A/N**: I"m sorry! So sorry! But I wrote as fast as I can! I just finished last week and just finished editing today! I worked so hard to make this as perfect as possible the first time to minimize the editing, and I think it worked but as a result, it took me way long to write. I'm not going to promise quicker updates because I don't know how long future chapters are going to be, but this is the single longest chapter of anything I have ever written ever. And it was initially going to be longer. I already know how I'm going to start next chapter (we start with Maria Theresa and Fritz) and how it's going to end (we meet Hungary :3) but the middle is...yeah. Please review and don't loose hope in me, because while updates will be slow quality will be good and I will not start another big chronological chapter project until it is done!

I changed my page breaks to these **~Hetalia!~** things because I had problems with the triple-asterisk page break in word and had to re-type the first four pages, so I hope you don't mind!

Also, if you caught the blatantly obvious reference at the end there, let me know ;) If you're first, you might get something.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Yay! Update! *dodges tomatoes* I'm so sorry! So much has happened, I've been so busy, I hardly had any time to write! Well, that's a lie, but I hardly had any time to write _this. _In November I did the ational Nowel Writing Month young writers program (I won, by the way). I wrote 25,000 words that month for a story I didnt even finish. So that was that. I wen't to Georgia sometime in October for a Model UN conference. I was also in South Carolina visiting family at the beginnng of this month, so that was a week gone. All that aside, here it is! I only edited it once, so if you catch any mistakes or have any questions at the end feel free to drop me a PM or include your question in a review; either way I'll get back to you. Also, if you think I should make add an annotation for anything at the end of this chapter please let me know and I will do so! Still using the ~Hetalia~ pagebreaks as a precaution against the tripple asterisk. Anyway, please enjoy!

**PS:** Should I up the rating for language? I think my use of the C word last chapter may warrant it.

Chapter 3

"I know why you're here," the duchess said simply, supporting her cheek with one arm. The guise of diplomacy and propriety had faded marginally as guises do when one is in a comfortable situation. She showed no fear and no anticipation of the events that were to soon unfold. It unnerved the young king.

"Do you?" He countered with fake skepticism. He prayed she did not _really_ know but her tone and demeanor made him highly doubt it.

"I do, and I have to say, I am…I'll admit, I am a bit disappointed." The king swallowed heavily. "Honestly, I had ventured to take you as a cordial man, King Friedrich, but you've proven me wrong. We all have flaws, I suppose. Namely, your Prussian blood."

He tightened his jaw yet remained otherwise composed. He was not one to take kindly to a direct insult on his country but for this he made an exception. "I am afraid you've lost me, my lady. In all frankness, I have no idea what _you're_ talking about."

The duchess snorted femininely. "Of course you do. I assume you are aware of my late husband's passing?" The king's eyes narrowed. Ah, yes, he had almost entirely forgotten that little detail. Initially he'd been delighted to learn that Maria Theresa's husband had met his sticky end in a baking accident, and jumped on the opportunity he then saw before him. He needed an excuse to go to war and take what he wanted from the neighboring empire and proposing peace first would divert blame to the Austrians. Since then he had allowed the information to slip his mind.

"I was made aware of this, yes." He tried to sound level as his father had during such meetings and as his kingdom was when she was conniving, but it was much more difficult than the two made it seem. He sounded like an awkward teenager when found wearing his mother's clothes. "I was quite upset, my lady, as I understand the pain of loosing a spouse myself."

Again, she snorted. "Oh, it is not uncommon knowledge that the two of you were not under the best terms. Did you even mourn the poor woman?"

"I did indeed!" Friedrich did his best to look insulted. In truth he had mourned the woman only a short while by abstaining from relations with his nation. He suspected she had something to do with the woman's death anyway, and it would have been inappropriate. "Her passing was most unfortunate."

"And untimely. I hear that you were trying for a child, were you not?" A blush rose to his cheeks. "Which of you two was the infertile one, pray tell? Her? You? How could you know?"

His fists clenched and he growled through his teeth "Do not speak of things that you know nothing about, _my lady_. We were _considering_ a child when she passed, not _trying for_ one."

"Ah, yes of course. Silly me." She waved off her impudence with a laced hand and smiled fondly at him. "But I do not take well to lying, dear."

Friedrich licked his lips and considered whether or not to answer. When it became painfully clear that the duchess did not intend to continue until he did so, he acquiesced. "I did not mourn, no. I lamented, but not mourned."

She nodded, fiddling with the sleeves of her dress absently. "There have also been…roumers. Nasty rumors about that woman of yours, Prussia. She seems like a…charming lady-" Fritz scoffed but let her continue. "But many other dignitaries believe that she had played a part in your spouse's departure. What say you to that, my lord?"

The young regent sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He too had heard the rumors; they spread through the castle like an infectious disease, their poisons infecting even the most loyal of servants. "And you do not like lies." The duchess nodded sharply, her eyes not wavering and as hard as stone. "Fine. I can neither qualify nor debunk your suspicions. I do not keep Prussia on a leash – she is free to do as she wishes and therefore I am not aware of what she does behind my back."

"You sound so nonchalant."

"I've learned to accept the good with the bad. Prussia is an amazing woman and a powerful kingdom but can be quite unruly when it suits her and I have found that I cannot chain her as my father and his father before him."

The duchess frowned. "Even the best-behaved dogs need leashes."

The king's eyes narrowed. "Even the leashed dog will bite."

"Yes well," She took a deep breath and made sure to maintain eye contact with the king. "The leashed dog learns to obey its master better than she who runs free."

Friedrich clenched his fists in his lap and leaned forward threateningly. "My kingdom is no dog, she is a warrior – quite unlike your own – and you do not chain a warrior lest you wish to have your throat slashed in your sleep." Exhaling the tension in his shoulders, he leaned back and relaxed into the moderately plush chair behind him. "And besides, if you truly know why I approach you today you know that I did not do so to discuss the ways in which I…tame my kingdom." A tiny blush appeared on his cheeks and he prayed the duchess either didn't notice or was too dense to discern its deeper meaning.

The duchess shifted her weight and assumedly crossed her legs under the table; Friedrich could not see that half of her body at the moment. "Yes, of course. You are here for my hand, no doubt."

"Your hand." It was not a question.

The duchess nodded, his statement all the affirmation she needed. "Yes, my hand in marriage. I am not stupid, dear Friedrich, I know the benefits you would reap from such a union and I am not blind to the fact that it would be looked upon favorably if I were to marry out of the succession. You proposed the same thing years ago, am I correct?"

Friedrich was stunned but his feelings did not surface on his face. He silently praised himself for maintaining his demeanor. "I did. You know well that there was one too many conditions to drive us apart. I believe the union then would have been easier than it would be now, but I must make the proposal." The duchess tapped her fingers against the arm of her chair expectantly, the distance between her eyes and her brows great. The king lost a great deal of the nerve he had been mustering to that critical glare, and he curled his toes at the thought of continuing. "And my proposal is this: we wed, you drop out of the succession, and we sign a nonaggression and assistance treaty. The way I see it all of our problems are solved at once; you get to remain a regent, nobody is angry about your succession, Prussia and Austria become military allies, and nobody bothers me about taking a wife anymore."

Maria Theresa's eyebrows were raised so high they almost touched her hairline but otherwise the woman did not appear to be phased at all. Quite the contrary. She rubbed an index finger across her chin and pouted as she considered the proposal. "I'll tell you what," she said finally. "I don't hate your proposal. Not at all, actually, I agree with the sentiment that had we wed in the first place none of this would have happened."

Fritz had been, at this point, prepared to stand up and walk out the door. He had been prepared to fetch Prussia and leave at once, lest their heads be chopped off and their feet fed to pigs. He was not prepared for this. "I…I beg your pardon?"

Maria Theresa rose from her seat, sauntering over to his side of the table. "I said, I don't hate your idea. I think it's a rather good one. But! We need to fix it up a little. In stead of a military alliance, I say we merge our lands."

In an instant, the king was out of his chair, fumbling to keep his balance. He straightened himself with little tact and straightened the powdered wig that covered his hair. "Merge! Why, I would never!" His voice was louder than he had expected it to be and it frightened him, but he continued on. "I would never! Prussia is a proud kingdom, not one to engage in such…such an abomination of culture!" Maria Theresa was unphased. She stared blankly at him, leaning her hips against the table with the clear knowledge that nobody save for the king was judging her and caring little for his opinion on the matter, she did so without discretion.

"You are the one who proposed it."

"I proposed no such thing! I rescind my offer, I will not marry you if our – dear God, it disgusts me to say!" Friedrich moved towards the door but a firm hand atop of his held him in place. Maria Theresa sent him a stern glare that sent shivers down his spine, paralyzing him in his place. The lady pulled back his chair and placed him in it, spinning him so she stood authoritatively above him, the laces of her petticoats bumping against his knees.

"You will listen, Prussian." All amiability was gone from her as she spoke. "And you would do well to pay attention, as I will only say this once. You will not rescind your offer, you will accept mine. Think about it. You could have everything you ever want – "

Friedrich found his voice. "I want nothing more than the happiness of my kingdom!"

Maria Theresa ripped off his wig and wound her fingers into his choppily cut hair, pulling his neck up to force eye contact. "You _will_ achieve the happiness of your kingdom. Or do you believe you have already done so? You do, don't you? You think that because you have her in your lap and she enjoys it you have given her happiness. Such ignorance disgusts me! Now listen!" She threw his head away from her, the anger on her face flushing through the powder on her cheeks. "And maybe you will achieve happiness for the both of you. Listen. I, as you know, stand to become next regent of the entirety of the Holy Roman Empire*. Would that not be an outrage? A woman, and empress? It would be an outrage. A man, however, now that would be fine. But a Prussian? I do not know how well the others would take to that. How about the two of us together? Your people trust you, as mine do I. Together, we could take it."

"I have no desire to be emperor."

"Shut up! You know not how to listen, Friedrich! You stupid, brainless, barbaric Prussian! Listen to my words! I am not promising you the throne to the empire; I am promising you strength to yours! To us! Austria is a budding empire! Prussia is a budding empire! But only one of us can possibly become so. Austria has Hungary under his control and all of Hungary's land. How would you feel if I were to take my stakes elsewhere and merge with Hungary? Hmm? You would be distraught, that is how you would feel! And if you were to come under alliance with Poland or Russia? I would be enraged! We would go to war either way! But, if we were to become one," she neshed her fingers together, a small, insane smile on her lips. "We would be the greatest empire in Europe. We would then inherit Holy Rome, and, what say I to that? I say, we annex it as well! Take Saxony, take Hesse! Build us up!"

"You're mad! I refuse to join with you, with your kingdom, when you maintain such a mental state!" Friedrich's mind was reeling. He had not expected this, of all things. Maria Theresa had never seemed to him to be the imperialist of the two of them, but with this influx of new information he was beginning to see things differently. All Friedrich wanted was Silesia. She wanted nearly all of Europe.

"I'm not mad," she sighed, the lunacy gone from her. She moved away from him and pushed herself on to the table, sitting down and biting her lip. "You must see. Look, I'm not blind. I find your immortal companion to be uncouth, if you pardon my insolence, but I see the way you look at her. There is adulation there."

Friedrich blushed. Yes, adulation was the proper term. "I-I am the first servant of my state."

"Hmm. So I've heard. I assume then, that you've likewise seen how I care for mine?" He nodded. "Then you understand. We will not live forever, Friedrich. What will happen when you die? Prussia will be left alone. When I die? Austria will have only his piano and my successor. We can not predict our successor, nor can we predict theirs, or the ruler of our states in a hundred years. I merely want us to improve relations by creating mutuality between us. We're…we're not so different." The king would have bought her rouge were it not for the heaviness that she swallowed down just then.

"You know as well as I that we are very different. I am Prussian. You, sadly, are Austrian."

"Ha! Au contraire, I am Austrian, pure of blood and dignity. You are Prussian, the dirt beneath my feet."

Perhaps here she detected her blunder, as she took a few steps back from the chair from which Friedrich had not yet raised. He spoke. "It is your turn to listen, my lady. I want a military alliance to defend ourselves from the Russians in the north and the English and French, who are itching to go to war. If this is not favorable, I want Silesia as compensation, that is all. I do not want to unite two incompatible people."

"We are hardly incompatible." Though it was not the two of _them_ he was speaking of, he could not help but rebut.

"Oh really?"

"Yes. I heard that as a child you begged to marry me. You called me intelligent. Pleasant. You liked me, Friedrich. Are we incompatible, because you are Prussian and I am Austrian?"

The king had little to say. He _had_ wanted to marry Maria Theresa when he was younger, and perhaps a childhood crush from those times still lingered in him now. Perhaps it had helped speed along his decision. But he was not interested in her now, certainly, he had his Angel – he could only think to call her such – to look forward to.

"Yes." He said simply, pushing himself from his chair. "And besides, Prussia and Austria would never condone."

"Condone? It is not their decision. Austria does as he is told, he has to. It is the job of the immortals to do as they are told and lead their countries to prosperity."

"Prussia makes her own decisions." Friedrich turned his cheek, biting it from the insides, hoping she understood the round-about insult.

"Oh, of course! Prussia makes her own decisions! Maybe when things are trivial, but has she ever gone to war when you have told her not to? Or has the inverse ever happened? She can not deny you, Friedrich. She _belongs_ to you."

"I am the first servant _of my state_!" he shouted, his eyes burning, though not threatening to spill over with any tears. "I belong to her, not the other way around!"

Maria Theresa twisted her hips, the dress kicking up around her. She looked rather like a small, intricate cake, Friedrich decided. A cake with a sour crème filling. "So you say. But think; you are going to die. She is not. At least give her a husband. At least give her some company."

She was playing him. He knew she was playing him, talking in circles, grasping at whatever straws she could, but he was slowly falling for her words. Prussia was terrible when it came to making friends – her only friend to his knowledge was France, who considered her his younger sister. Her associations with men other than the two of them were pitable at best. What _was_ to become of her after his passing? Would she fall in love with her next regent as she had fallen for him? He shuddered to think. Would she be alone forever? She would certainly not marry unless her union was arranged, and who could be trusted to make such a match but himself?

And of course, his intrinsic male hedonism and greed began to shine through. He could be Emperor. He could have power. He could have greatness. And Prussia…she would forgive him. With time, she would be even greater than she had ever dreamed of being. Greater than he could ever hope to make her.

Perhaps Maria Theresa saw some of this behind his eyes. Perhaps she saw the glisten of greed that every man, benevolent or not, carried in the deep of his heart. Whatever it was, something made her smile and honest, happy smile, and she retrieved a plumed quill from the table. His chair was moved back to the table and she motioned for him to sit down. His ease shot between the door mere centimeters from his hand and the chair back at the table.

Slowly, he turned and returned to his seat. Maria Theresa pulled her own seat to his side. She took his hand, limp at his side, and closed it around the quill. "Together," she said, the same tone of simplicity and polite eagerness that had been there since the Prussian's arrival still present. "We shall create the greatest empire in all of Europe. Perhaps the greatest the world has ever known."

Friedrich tried to ignore the voice in his head whispering for him to leave, to remain loyal to his principals. But what principals were he betraying? Was he saving or destroying his people? "Maybe," he said in reply, bringing the quill to paper. The document was mostly blank, with a large loopy declaration of peace written across the top in what was clearly not the handwriting of Maria Theresa. "Maybe we will destroy the world. And maybe we will destroy the trust our people have in us."

The archduchess laughed as though she found him funny. "Come now, let's begin. We have a lot to hash out, but I'm sure we can come to agree on a union that will benefit the both of us."

**~Hetalia!~ **

For someone gagged and bound in a corset and dress, Maria moved with disturbing fluidity through the forest. If the Austrian following her did not know better, he would have guessed she had grown up in a forest, raised by the primates whose behavior hers so mimicked.

_It would certainly explain a lot, _Roderich thought to himself, chuckling lightly at his own joke. Maria jumped with the grace of a gazelle over a log clearly blocking her path, the edges of her dress catching on the bark despite her best efforts to keep it from dragging on the ground. She was more determined now than the aristocrat could ever remember seeing her in their long lives. Determination was not something she lacked by any means, but this was something completely new.

As she traipsed through the trees, whacking at wayward branches with her arms and kicking stones with the tips of her newly scuffed shoes, she muttered insults in a variety of languages to a variety of objects. Nothing was free from her colorful vocabulary, not fate, the dress she was stuffed into, some likely innocent nobody named Marcel, and certainly not Roderich himself.

"Fucking pansy-assed, emasculate prick." She gasped, for even she could not walk so quickly for so long without loosing her breath. "Son of a motherfucking bitch!*" Her foot flew from the ground. After standing, again her hands flew to the clasp around her shoe. Before he had time to react, Roderich's face unceremoniously met with her heel.

"Ah!" his arms belatedly flew to his face to shield himself. He bent over to retrieve the shoe. It was smaller than he expected but may has well have been made of steel, what with the pain it caused to his forehead. He would not have been surprised to see a deep imprint of it in his skin, had he a reflective surface to look in.

But there were no reflective surfaces in the forest, only trees, greenery, and the shadowy darkness of the canopy of leaves that allowed only imperfect glimpses of sunlight. It was increasingly uncomfortable for the aristocrat, especially considering his diminishing sense of spatial awareness.

"You know," he grouched, taking off after her again, unable to keep pace in the woods as he could on the flat land that led to it. "You could take into consideration my will to continue following you when you insist on throwing objects at my head."

"Fuck off, Pisskopf." She called back to him, pitching the shoe still in her hand back at him. He deftly caught it and tossed the pair off to the side, ignoring the pang of regret that ensued at loosing such intricate pieces of clothing.

"Are those the only words you know? Fuck and shit and piss? I'd dare to call you a sailor in both tongue and manner, were I not so afraid of offending your king." This caused Maria to pause. She did not turn to look at him, but she did tilt her head to the side in clear declaration of her captured attention. "He seems to be the only one able to domesticate you." Maria exhaled sharply and threw her arms down her sides. Roderich smirked.

"Shut up! As though you're one to talk! You're nothing more than a trained monkey in a suit! I bet you've never even killed a man before. Now how's that for domesticated?" Though the Austrian was close enough to hear clearly and the Prussian obviously knew so, she shouted loudly. Birds overhead took from their perches and darted through the sky.

"I've certainly killed more men than you. I am a man after all, I've fought more, undoubtedly and am older. I would not be surprised to find that I've killed more men in my life already than you will for the rest of yours."

Maria scoffed. "That's rich, cupcake. I was born of death for death. I've got more kills nicked into my belt that you; I highly doubt you've killed anything more intelligent than a pig."

Roderich smirked. In all honesty, she was making it too easy. "You're absolutely right. Only a few hundred Prussians and perhaps a handful of the rest." He could see Maria's fists clench and unclench, twitching closer and closer to her bare hip. The absence of her rapier was no doubt driving her insane. It was a good thing it was gone; Roderich was dread to think of the state of his body if they were to fight in the forest.

Silence again passed between them. Maria seemed to know exactly where she was going and Roderich did not doubt her. If there was one thing, besides proficiency in hand-to-hand combat, that he could grant her superior it was being able to find her way about without loosing herself.

After a few hours of walking this surety had began to subside, but he still was unwilling to doubt her, if only for his own peace of mind.

"Do you even know where we're going?" He asked. He received no immediate reply other than a quickening of pace. "Do you know where we're going?" he repeated.

Maria spat her reply "Of course I know where I'm going! Only unawesome _children _like you ever not know where they're going." She grunted as she pushed a branch out of her way. It whiplashed back and Roderich just barely missed introducing another unintelligent object with his face.

"Really? Where exactly, considering you've never been in these woods before. I've hardly ever…what?" Maria had stopped abruptly and her head was turned upward. She raised an arm and pointed up.

The tree she directed his gaze towards was immense in both girth and height. It was thicker around than Roderich was tall and he knew the top only by the mass of greenery that surrounded it. The only branches it possessed seemed to sprout from beneath this green mass and from one of them hung Maria's bicorn. It swayed as the breeze blew it but seemed lodged on to the extent that it would need to be removed from the tree. Waiting for it to fall would be a pointless endeavor.

This same revelation seemed to simultaneously exist in Prussia and she approached the trunk. She pulled at the hems of her dress with her hands and looked around it, considering her ability to climb the tree with such a cumbersome lower side. In a manner of trial-and-error she grabbed at the bark with her nails and attempted to latch her feet around it. Her effort was in vain. She fell and landed with a thud on her bottom. Determined, she stood, spit in her hands, and tried again

Roderich had the privilege to watch this as it happened. He entertained himself for the next few minutes by watching her try and fail to scale the tree, growing more and more frustrated with each attempt, before he finally interrupted her and offered his services. He was sure to exaggerate his contempt for her and mock her inability to climb while he did so, even going so far as to mention the physical inferiority of the female body. Maria only raised an eyebrow – though her face was red with fury – and motioned for him to give it his own attempt.

When he made the offer, the aristocrat had not considered the restrictive nature of his own attire. He wore stiff, buckled boots and now-torn knee socks under a pair of breeches. The shirt he wore tucked into said breeches clung tightly to his chest and sides in a manner almost akin to that of a corset, and his coat, buttoned at the middle, would certainly bust open if he bent at too odd an angle. This in mind, he concocted a plan to minimize his potential embarrassment.

He stretched out his arms and approached the tree. His hands wrapped almost all the way around the nearside of the trunk and, unknowing of what else to do, he pressed his body up to it.

Maria scoffed and covered her mouth with a hand. "Treehugger."

"Shut up." He looked up the trunk and balked at the smoothness of its bark. It became very clear very quickly that he would be completely unable to scale it. But he had already made a show of himself, he could not possibly go back on his boast now. Sucking in his pride he dug the tips of his shoes into the bark and began inching his way up the tree, shifting his arms as he went to pull along his body. It was slow but effective and the aristocrat managed to ignore Maria's jeers long enough to get almost a foot from the ground. Gravity then increased its pull on him and he landed with a thud on his feet.

Maria scoffed again and slapped him hard on the back. "That was absolutely pathetic. I am ashamed to be standing next to you right now."

Roderich pulled his shoulder away and grimaced. "As if you could do any better. Honestly, it may as well be slicked with oil. There's nothing to climb."

Maria ran her tongue over her lip and her eyes drew together as she thought. When the pink mussel dashed back into its cave it dragged with it a section of the red paste smeared across her lips. She shifted her weight to another foot and her dress shifted with her, the shiny material catching in the fading light. Suddenly a look of realization crossed her features and she pulled up the side of her dress.

Roderich looked away, a blush spreading across his cheeks. "What are you doing?"

At the sound of her skirt hitting the ground Roderich looked back, his eyes widening at the sight of a rather long, wide dagger. Though it was obviously sheathed in some kind of wrapping, from the look of the handle it was designed for practical use, not show. The Prussian held it flat against her palm and unwrapped the cloth, tucking the fabric between her breasts. Indeed, it was a weapon of efficiency, and appeared sharp enough to cut through flesh like a hot knife cuts through butter. Its only intricacy was the name BEILSCHMIDT carved vertically down the fuller.

"It's a blade. You can't climb a tree with a blade."

"You can climb a tree with two blades." She held it straight up and examined it against the canopy of greed. "Give me yours."

"Pardon?"

"Oh, come now, don't make yourself look more ridiculous than you already do. You and I both know you would not have come out here with me without some kind of defense. You've got to have at least a kitchen knife strapped to you somewhere."

The aristocrat was surprised she did not reference his penis when speaking of swords.

She seemed to know him as only a true enemy could. He had strapped a dagger of his own to his upper thigh out of force of habit before Maria and her king had even arrived. Still, he was uncomfortable parting with it, and transferring it into the hands of his worst enemy would paint him not only as a conceited, but as a fool. "No."

Maria clasped the hilt of the blade in her fist and held it at her hip. 'Come on. You seriously didn't come out here without some kind of weapon, did you? I didn't think you were that daft, Roddy."

"Oh I have one," he assured, "but you can't have it. Give me yours, I'll climb up there and get it." As much as he hated to do anything for the uncouth and unappealing Prussian, he knew that there was no way either of them would be returning home without that wretched hat.

"Ah, no, your unawesomeness would pollute it's purity. You'd never be able to climb that tree anyway." She gestured rudely towards the tree. Quickly the blade flipped around in her hand and she was upon him. His back pressed against the trunk of the very tree of which they spoke and Maria used it as leverage to push him down. Her fingers fisted in his already sloppy hair and exposed his neck, to which the dagger was pressed.

Roderich took a moment to reflect on the shockingly large number of times he had waltzed with death since the Prussians had invaded. Certainly exposure to these people was not good for his health.

"You see, I have the upper hand here. You're the one with cold iron pressed to your neck. So, where is it?"

"I'll get it."

"Hurry."

Roderich did, though the invasion of his personal space hindered his efforts. Most unnerving of all was the intense eye contact Maria kept as Roderich tried to unclip a buckle with one hand. Those bright carmine irises shone with something more powerful than intelligence, more powerful than physical dexterity, more powerful even than pure evil. It was raw determination and the canine loyalty intensively bred into her species. He placed his own dagger, obviously showier than her own, in her waiting hand. The blade moved away from his neck but did not cease to point at him, and she used this leverage to move him away from the tree.

Now unarmed, Roderich was in no position to antagonize as he had before though he had no intention of stopping. Maria had no qualms about turning her back to him now and tapped the two blades together before approaching the trunk.

With a flick of her wrist, Roderich's blade was buried deep into the trunk of the tree, almost half the metal encased in hard wood. Maria pulled it and released, letting it resonate. She seemed dissatisfied. "This better be made well, asshole, or you'll be sorry."

"It's the finest in Europe. If it breaks it's because your weight was too much for it to handle."

Maria did not visible acknowledge him as she traced a path up the tree with her finger. "If it hasn't rusted from disuse yet it will be just fine." She clenched the blade between her teeth and pulled herself up onto the blade. The muscles in her arms, though developed for a female, clenched painfully at the exertion and her eyes appeared as if they were going to pop out of her head, but she managed to pull herself high enough that she could push herself onto it and stand on it. She had incredible balance for one so gawky. The blade was pulled from between her teeth and jammed into the tree at her chin height. With her bare feet she managed to wiggle Roderich's blade out of its place and hung by one arm as she transferred it to her waiting hand.

It was a clever plot, the Austrian had to admit. Maria climbed the tree by making her own handholds with their daggers and her unusual dexterity caused him to seriously consider his previous hypothesis of her simian lineage.

It took her only ten minutes – shockingly short, considering the height of the tree – before she reached the branch that impaled her bicorn. From there she wrapped her hands around the branch and pulled herself on to it. At one point her grip faltered and she threatened to fall to the ground. Roderich's heart jumped into his throat – he would never be able to catch her before she splattered against the ground like an insect. But he did not have to try. In the typical fashion of the 'lucky bastard', she righted herself and shimmied down to where her bicorn hung. It came loose easily; she held it between her teeth and shimmied back, pressing it down firmly over her ponytail as she prepared to descend.

It was slightly less graceful than her ascent and consisted of 'repelling'. She would pull the daggers out of the wood and then slide them deftly back in to slow her fall. Though the idea was elegant enough, she appeared quite similar to a cat as it slid from a mattress, clinging desperately to the fabric as it fell to the ground.

When she made it down, she pulled out both daggers with a sharp tug. She quietly examined them and scoffed when she saw how dulled and tarnished Roderich's had become.

"Best in Europe. An Amazonian could have done better." Roderich resisted the urge to retort with _You think you can, can you? That's a bit egoistic._She tossed it back to him and he grabbed it. Though the blade landed in his hand he did not cut himself. "It's dull – not much use as a weapon anymore."

The Austrian was understandably enraged. "You would know! This cost more than your entire cavalry!" It was only a slight exaggeration. Maria scoffed, balancing her own dagger on one finger.

"Functionality over fashonability. This is older than I am and I've never had to sharpen it once." She flipped it over and used the tip to pick between her teeth.

_I hope she cuts her gums, _Roderich thought to himself as he assessed the damage. It wasn't irreparable, but he would have to spend a good few hours sharpening it when he got home. "Are we going now?" He asked bitterly, restraining himself. Maria nodded.

"Lead the way, oh so knowledgeable bookieboy." She attempted to mock bow but was hindered by her corset. He wondered how she managed to scale the tree in such a contraption.

"I will," He replied, turning on his heels and walking back in the direction he assumed they had come from. It was not long before his rationality kicked in and he realized he had no idea where he was going. He stopped short and looked around.

"What?"

"Nothing." Maria did not press further as he soon took off again. It was refreshing to have her follow him this time around, though he knew the only reason this was so was because she presumed he knew where he was going.

The walked for two long hours before Maria stopped him. "Alright," she said, stomping down her foot. Roderich turned about face and raised an eyebrow. "Where are we?"

"In the woods, of course. Weren't you going on about how daft _I_ am before?"

"You know what I mean. Where are we? It's completely dark, we've been walking for hours. It didn't take us this long to find my hat."

The Aristocrat was hesitant to admit his shortcomings. Instead, he straightened his lapels and continued forward. Maria did not let him. Before he could register that she and moved, the Prussian stood in front of him, a bare and bloody foot tapping against the ground in agitation. He attempted to move past her but she extended her arms and blocked his way. "Move your overly immense form, Mitzi."

She growled. "Don't call me that. And no. Tell me, Roddykins, where are we?"

Roderich avoided her gaze. "The woods behind my house," he repeated. He pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose when they began to slip.

"No shit. Where. Are. We?"

He did not reply.

Maira grabbed his coat and pulled him as close to her as he could. She hissed into his ear; "Roderich, are we lost?"

Desperately, he looked for anywhere to fix his gaze other than his reluctant companion's eyes. That was all the confirmation she needed. With a shove, she pushed him to the ground, groaning, running her fingers through her hair and working out the tie that trapped it atop her head. "Fuck you." She grumbled as the silver stands fell around her face. "Just…just fuck you."

**~Hetalia!~**

Friedrich's hand was cramping. Cramping muscles and cramping guilt came together to create an unholy ache.

Thinking about what he had just done made his stomach hurt, so for the moment he chose not to.

Instead, he resolved to enjoy his moment of peace as best he could and wonder where his immortal companion had wondered off to. Honestly, he was surprised she hadn't burned down the entire manor by now. A glance out the nearest window revealed that the sun was gone and the air had turned cold. There had been no calls for the pair to come and retrieve their immortals by their ears and, if he was being honest with himself, Fritz was worried. He glanced at the rapier he had confiscated where it leaned in the corner of the room, using Austria's own confiscated weapon as support, as if the two were closely acquainted. What trouble had the duo gotten into that did not require intervention? Friedrich shuddered to consider it.

"What do you think of, my king?" Maria Theresa placed a hand on the Prussians shoulder and the king did not attempt to remove her. His lips curled in distaste.

"I think of my Prussia, and where she has been all this time. We must have been trapped in this tiny room for at least a manner of six hours, maybe more. What have they gotten into?"

The archduchess sighed, "Nothing, as is obvious. They have behaved themselves." This comment was met only with a scoff disguised as a cough. It turned to choking as Fritz inhaled his own saliva and pounded his chest to clear his lungs. Maria Theresa frowned. "What?"

"You obviously do not know Prussia as I do. There is no behavior with her, unless it is unruly." There was silence. "Call on a servant, have someone check up on them. I am beginning to worry."

The archduchess sighed and opened the door with a key dangling between her breasts. Friedrich had not known it was locked. She called down the hall; "Hungary! I require your assistance!" Fritz's brows furrowed together. He was unaware Hungary served directly in Austria's manor, though he certainly knew of Austria's dominion over the nation.

The sound of heavy footsteps running in their direction served as a herald for the tall and broad man standing in the doorway. A direct contrast to the Austrian housemaster, Hungary was rugged, dirty, his clothes tattered where they were worn. He was not poorly dressed but it was obvious he lived as subservient to the Austrians. Still, this did not appear to lower the man's self esteem. His smile was bright.

"Yes ma'am?" he huffed, brushing his chestnut hair behind his ears. A small pink flower struggled to remain there through the jostling.

"Have you seen Austria and Prussia lately?"

He shook his head. "No ma'am, I haven't seen them at all since the Prussians arrived." He looked passed Maria Theresa to Friedrich, a light blush coating his cheeks when he saw the man. He cleared his throat. "But I heard some of the outer guards talking about Master Roderich and Miss Prussia heading to the gardens earlier and never returning. Why?"

Maria Theresa sighed, running her fingers through the loose strands of hair at the sides of her head. They had been ringlets before the two regents took to 'negotiating' but after so much stress there were merely wisps of blond that looked most out of place. "Have any of the servants seen either of them in the gardens from the windows?"

"No ma'am, only the usual gardeners, and even they haven't seen them."

"Is there anywhere else they could have gone?" A sickening feeling began to root itself in Friedrich's throat. Nothing good could come from a misplaced Prussia, and certainly not a misplaced Prussia in the company of Austria.

"Well, there are the woods, but Master Austria knows not to go in there. Right?"

"Prussia doesn't know. Maybe he followed her."

"Pardon my insolence, but certainly he is not so daft!"

Fritz was slightly confused but he did not say so. As it was, his expression spoke for itself as Hungary nodded his head in his direction. "Sir, is Prussia any good with directions? I don't quite remember; it's been so long."

"Outside Prussia she is as good with direction as any other, but not an exceptionally gifted navigator. Why do you ask?"

The pair of familiars shared a look between them that spoke of nothing good. "Austria can not find his way in our own home on his best days. I would loathe to think what would become of them alone in the woods."

"Certainly they've not gone, ma'am?"

"I believe they may have. Hungary, would you mind searching the grounds before we send out a search party? Be in no terrible hurry; I'm sure they can handle themselves until we fetch them."

Fritz gulped. No, no good would come of this. Though he had much to say, propositions to make, ideas to pitch, he dared not disagree, lest he anger his fiancé.

**~Hetalia!~ **

**A/N:** So, there you go! I know, kind of crappy, but my writing style has gone through so many stages these past few months. For NaNoWriMo, I was writing on a strick 'quantity over quality' style, the exact opposite of what I usually do for this, so I had to do a lot of editing. Seriously, my printed copy is a mess of red pen and hilighter :'( I had actually intended to end the last chapter with the end of the Prussia&Austria part of this chapter. Yeah. I had intended to finish this chapter much farther along, propably what will be halfway to next chapter, and I've only barely started it! But I promise I will finish. I intend for this to be my first completed multi-chaptered story! I do apoligise for the lackluster of the chapter, though. If you have any suggestions of what you want to see, just let me know. I love new ideas :) If you want a sneak-peek of future events (Pairings etc.) everything is pretty much final now for the next ten or so chapters, so I wil let you know. You might not expect some things, but I promise the character tags are not a lie! I promise, next chapter, things heat up.

Notes:

Holy Roman Emporer: I am a high-school aged American teenager. I know nothing of the history of the Holy Roman Empire, despite my 5 on the AP World exam. So I don't know how the emporer was chosen. Just ignore that for this fic. I do know that Maria Theresa eventually became Holy Roman Empress, though (97% sure), so that's that.

*: There's a funny story about this, actually. A friend and I were walking through the halls and a boy behind us said it like this: SON ofamotherfucking Bi-ich! I wrote that scene the next day.

Not many notes this chapter...I seriously feel like I'm overlooking something. If I am, let me know, I will fix it.

If there are any glaring mistakes anywhere let me know, and please review and tell me what you think! Love? Hate? Do you want to shoot me? I promise, I'll reply if you take PMs! And thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed to much; my heart sings every time a see a new review!


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Ach, God, sorry this took so long! School hates me; I've never had so much work and so little time in my life! This has been all typed up since February but I only now had time to edit and post. Sadly this is probably how long updates are going to take from now on (I'm starting my Laureate presentation this summer and it won't be finished until sometime _next_ february) but they certainly won't stop. I really like this story and now that this little devil is finished (I've never had to force myelf to write so hard before!) things should flow more effectively. **

**I apoligise for any stupid editing erroris; I'm on my mother's computer and am litteraly smacking the keys to get them to work. Anyway, Roderich and Maria have a little enemy bonding going on here :3 Hope you enjoy!**

Maria had stopped talking to him, which was a relief. Her voice was beginning to grate against his nerves, not that her presence alone was not sufficiently abhorrent. However, this meant that she was supremely angry with him, which inclined her to leave him to his own devices in the woods. Roderich knew that his own devices would certainly lead to his own death and chose to follow her, though she certainly was not making it easy. He had previously marveled at the swiftness with which she moved, restricted as she was, and now that she had a motive – namely, get away from him – Maria may as well have been a gazelle.

She seemed to be growing consistently more frustrated, however. He, in all his hatred of her, found he could not place upon her any blame. The dress she wore, though beautiful, was meant for galas and extravagant balls, not traipsing through the woods at a break-neck pace and it continually caught on twigs and leaves. She stumbled and tumbled as the ground grew consistently more uneven.

After a particularly hard fall, Maria seemed to have had enough of her dress. She pulled her knife from it's holster in her sash and stopped abruptly. Roderich's eyes widened when she grabbed a bunch of dress and brought it up to the blade.

"Stop!" He commanded fiercely, garnering no response. "I said stop! God don't! That's fashion – " The tearing of the dress caused him to cringe. "Sacrilege."

He watched as she tore the top layer completely off, the petticoats underneath quickly meeting a similar fate. She unceremoniously piled them on the ground. To Roderich's dismay, she was not wearing bloomers.

"Dear Lord Maria! Where are your undergarments?" She smirked coldly.

"What? Don't like what you see?" She rotated her pelvis, exposing her female parts with each forward thrust.

"God no! For the love of decency, cover yourself!"

She scoffed and played with the remaining material. The beautiful top was gone; all that remained was the bottom layer of her petticoats cut six inches down her thigh and the fringes that remained from the rest of it. "Why should I? The Greeks immortalized the naked male body in stone; I happen to think that the naked _fe_male body is worthy of just as much adoration."

Roderich turned away. He outright refused to look at her when she was in such a state of undress, whether it be from disgust, embarrassment, or fear of his male hormones. "Not _your_ body."

"Is there something wrong with _my_ body?" Her tone was dangerous; he could almost see those crimson orbs flashing with icy anger, a dare.

Roderich looked at his hands. He thanked the lord silently for not granting the demoness the ability to see though bodies. "You've got no breasts, for one. And you're skinner than anything I've ever seen before."

Behind him there was the sound of rustling fabric and a harsh 'harumph'. "Well, neither do you. You're a flat chested, stingy beast who waits for the perfect woman to fall from the sky. Moron." He growled but said nothing. "Well, turn around jackass. I'm not waiting for you."

This time Roderich had to run to keep pace. It appeared that Maria had tied a piece of her torn gown around her waist. Though it barely concealed her buttocks he supposed it was better than being forced to stare at her naked and unappealing arse for the rest of their journey, however long it should last.

"You've got a lot of nerve, you know." He said after a moment. He determined that she was far too concentrated on getting away from him to pay any real mind to his choice of words. "I'm a man. I don't have to stand for this nonsense. Women should know their place, and you certainly don't"

She scoffed absently, a sure sign of the correctness of Roderich's statement. "Yeah, I know my place all right. At the opposite end of a rapier pressed to your throat. And your place is under my boot."

"What boot? You chucked them at me!"

Maria ignored him and continued on her way, not bothering to throw the aristocrat a backwards glance. She did, however, throw him a rather rude gesture with her left hand.

The stickiness of the air was uncomfortable, but Roderich outright refused to remove his overcoat. _I will not stoop to the level of that miscreant,_ he thought to himself. He took a deep breath and smelled the rain that was to come, chuckling slowly under his breath. _When the clouds break, she will have no cover and catch cold. Hopefully it will turn into pneumonia and she'll die. _The thought made him abnormally giddy.

Not that he could even see the clouds. The trees overhead were so thick that he barely caught a glimpse of the darkening sky. As night fell it became harder and harder to see not only the emptiness above them but what was right in front of them. Perhaps it was a terrible idea after all, not that he hadn't known so from the get go. He estimated it at eight O'clock when the forest became bathed in total blackness. He also estimated that Maria's eyesight was not as perfect as she often boasted, as the frequency and intensity of her cursing grew exponentially.

"Fuck this motherfucking shit. God-dammed whorefaced forest. Suck my tits, tell me what it tastes like." Roderich paled, the image of her exposed, underdeveloped breasts invading his mind. _Maria Theresa, give me the strength. _"I can't see shit!"

"Of course you can't, its night. Or have you forgotten? When the sun goes down the lights go out?" He heard her let out a shaky breath and saw her silhouette adjust her garments before continuing forward at a significantly slower pace. "Have you considered stopping for the night? I'd rather not be eaten by wild animals at the hand of your negligence, thank you."

"_Suck_ my negligence," She asserted. "I don't want to have to spend any more time in here with you of all people than I have to. You should have just stayed back at your damned froofy manor."

He ignored the recurring image of her nipples and digressed. "I would have, had I not thought it rude. You almost looked presentable then; my chivalry overtook my common sense."

"A cockroach has more chivalry in one leg than you have in your entire body. You think you're this big hot-shot romantic, but you're just a controlling, four-eyed misogynist." She spat venomously, pushing some plants from her path. The dagger made its home in her palm now and she used it to cut away at some of the thicker foliage.

"I'm surprised you even know what misogynist means." He quipped, stumbling over a root that he could not see through the darkness.

"I know what 'castrate' means too, and I've got about forty different ways I've been wanting to try it, so don't tempt me." Though her words were sharp her tone was not; too much of her attention was spent on navigating her environment.

"I very much want to tempt you. Believe me, I could destroy your fertility long before you could do mine. I knife in the – "

Maria cut him off sharply. "Go ahead, try it. It's been done already and while you're distracted I'll gauge your ballsacks.."

Roderich stopped for a moment to blink confusedly before taking off again, now in a hurry to catch up. "What?"

"You just love to talk, don't you? Maybe I'll cut out your tongue instead."

"You're avoiding the question."

"I don't av-ah!" The Austrian heard a small cry followed swiftly by the hard sound of a body hitting the ground. Five steps later and he too was on the ground, having tripped over a pile of immortal Prussian flesh.

"Godverdammt, Maria!" He exclaimed, the buttery expletive slipping through his lips.

"Shut up!" She moaned. Roderich's glasses had been kicked off and he patted around the ground looking for them. Not that they would do him much good in the dark, he reflected, and it wasn't as though he actually needed them to see, but his glasses were more of a symbol of his status than anything else. He found the rims – only the rims, it seemed the glass had popped out – and situated them back on his face. It wasn't as if anyone but Maria would see him so undignified anyway.

Roderich took no curtsey to avoid stumbling over as he regained his balance. He brushed his coat and, assuming she had also righted herself, began forward only to trip over her once more. "God, what are you still doing on the ground?"

"I'm working on it," she replied. He saw the silhouette of her form push itself onto its palms, then use the foliage around her to support her weight. As soon as she place both feet on the ground she let out a pained gasp and fell again. "Damn."

"Maria?" There was no tint of worry in his voice, only impatience, and he prayed that it was not misinterpreted as such.

"Sh-shut up," she hissed her frame shifted and she appeared to be sitting with a back against her tree.

"What happened?"

"None of your business."

"I think it is my business. In case you've forgotten, we're both lost in the woods _at night_. And you're sitting on the floor caressing your ankle as if it's an illicit lover. Tell me, lest I go on without you."

Maria scoffed. "Yeah, like you wouldn't walk off a cliff or get eaten by a bear on your own." The darkness shaded his blush and for that he was grateful. The silence that followed was broken a few moments later by Maria's panting, twinged with pain.

"What is it?"

"I said its none of your business!"

"And I said it is my business!" He smacked his hand to the ground below him, tilting his head when he heard a sticky slap. He lifted his hand to his face. It was stick and glistened in the little light that crept through the trees. The smell of copper assaulted his nostrils. "You're bleeding."

"No shit."

"What _is_ it?"

"Shut up!"

"Then tell me what it is!"

Maria screamed: "My ankle's broken!"

Silence. Then: "Why is there so much blood?"

"I…must have stepped in a thistle bush or something. So I fucking tripped. Is that what you wanted to hear, young Master?"

He resisted the deep chuckle that built in his throat – even with his hatred, he knew that now was not the time. Slowly it began to dawn on him that Maria would be unable to walk. An increasingly unpleasant image began to take shape in his mind. "You're not going to be able to walk."

Silence. Maria began to postulate. It was uncommon, but the smell of charring pine told Roderich it was so. A tiny revelation then stretched her features. "Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. No. Don't even think about it, prissy-pants. I'm not an invalid, I can walk on my own, snapped ankle or no."

Roderich rolled his eyes. It was obvious by the way her silhouette hunched that Maria would be unable to stand. Walking would be nearly impossible. Judging by the darkness of the night, it was just past ten. Creatures of the night were already prowling about, their deep throaty hums wracking the spines of their prey with shivers. And they, though immortal and likely to win a fight with nature anyway, the pair was awfully exposed. Roderich felt his hackles, soothed by the domestic life of the musician and the aristocrat alike, rise in a distinctly animalistic manner. "L-let's see you get up then." He stuttered, pushing the empty frames of his glasses up his nose.

"I will," Maria responded indignantly. She grunted as she pushed herself onto her knees, then one foot. From there she used the tree as support until she could place her foot gingerly on the ground. She did not fall but it was obvious she was favoring her left side. "See?"

Roderich's raised eyebrow went unseen. "I see you standing. Walk."

Maria grunted. She lifted her injured foot and placed it in front of her. As the appendage made contact with the ground she winced. Despite the obvious pain it was causing her she incrsed the pressure on it, eventually stumbling and collapsing in on herself as she moved forward. "Shit."

"Indeed."

"Suck it, Roddy."

"Someone's being awfully profane today. And you were so well behaved earlier too."

"I had a change of heart."

"Did we now?"

"Yeah. I remembered how much I hate you."

Roderich sighed and allowed himself to sit on the ground beside her. An orchestra of crickets sprung into life around them and he scanned the darkness in vain for the source of the noise. The insects hid from him just as peace did, in the warring times of the present. It had been years since he had last had such a long break from fighting, but the itch was slowly returning and war would arise again. Crickets did not sing on the battlefield.

He sighed and adjusted himself on the floor, crossing his legs and letting his muscles relax. "You're sitting," Maria commented. "Why are you sitting? Get up, we're moving on!"

"Don't be such a braggart," he lamented, almost chuckling as Maria struggled to push herself to her feet. With each heft she grew weaker, eventually falling back into the growing pool of her own blood. She must have punctured a vein. "We both know you're not going anywhere. Just sit there and let your weak feminine ankle heal. We'll head back in the morning."

He heard a sharp exhale of anger as the Prussian settled into her crevice. Her form shifted and she extended her leg, her foot sticking out at an odd and disturbing ankle. It seemed to glisten in what little light illuminated them. The bone must have snapped, and only God knew how. Maria was one of the more durable immortals, and to Roderich's knowledge she was one of the more graceful ones as well. "I'm not weak," she grumbled to herself, though it was now apparent that she intended on heeding her enemy's advice.

Roderich smirked softly for a moment, before remembering that of the two of them, Maria was more capable of fending off possible animal assailants. Not that he was completely incompetent – his military record alone was proof enough – but he had only a dull knife with which to defend himself, and in the dark no less. Now would certainly be a terrible time to fall victim to karma. "We should…try to sleep." He said, his voice shakier than he had intended. He had gotten little sleep the night prior and it was beginning to catch up to him. "It's been a long day."

A scoff. "As if. I'm not giving you the opportunity to slit my throat in my sleep. I'm not that stupid."

"I wasn't even thinking about that. To be honest, I'm tired. You must be tired as well. I dread to think what Maria Theresa and Friedrich are thinking right now, they must be worried sick."

"Fritz knows I can take care of myself."

"That includes sleeping, you know."

"Yeah. Sure." She shifted and her blade glinted in the minimal light. She fondled it as one would fondle a lover, her fingertips dancing down its fuller, rubbing softly on the hilt as a man rubs the teats of his woman's breast. He would not be surprised to find she made love to the object.

The night wore on slowly. After two hours of darkness and silence and lack of precipitation the pair of enemies began to see conversation as a welcome alternative, despite the unsavory partner. Roderich, having spent the better part of the time twitching and flinching at every noise that shattered the ambiance of 'night', opened conversation as an excuse to practice his raillery. "Why did you throw a knife at my head?"

Maria yawned loudly, stretching out her arms and back. "Huh?"

"Why did you throw a knife at my head?"

He was certain she rolled her eyes. "Because I hate you."

"I knew that already."

"I hate you a lot, prissypants. I hate you with the fire of a thousand suns. The flames of the Hell that you're condemned to couldn't compare to the fire in my stomach fueled by my hatred of you."

"But _why_?" He was baiting her, waiting for her to say something stupid that he could throw back at her.

She sighed, frustrated. "Because I thought your face could be greatly improved by a large red hole right in the middle of it. Fix the plainness, you know? Besides, I knew you would only take it personally. It was _completely_ personal, by the way."

His cheeks burned. "Why I never!"

"Never what? Fucked a woman?"

"Are you capable of devising an insult to anything other than my masculinity?"

"Are you capable of giving me a straight answer to a question? Because it sounds to me that you're avoiding the topic." He could hear the smirk in her voice and decided that ignoring her would provide more satisfaction than attempting to move into a battle of the tongues. Someone once said that it was impossible to argue with stupid, and he knew from experience that it was a true. He huffed and turned away, causing Maria to laugh humorlessly and shake her head. Fine, let her be that way.

Night wore on, again in that intolerable silence. The crickets stopped playing and a symphony of croaking took up in their place as the amphibians waited for the rain. The air was sweeter and stickier than before; it could not be long now. Roderich had been unaware that frogs existed in such forests. His major concern, however, was still that of large carnivorous predators who would undoubtedly see a scrawny man and an injured woman as a particularly edible meal. This time, Maria started conversation, her voice shaky with exhaustion. "Do you know how the others have been doing?"

"Hmm?"

"The others, you know. Arthur, Francis, Ivan, Antonio. My head's been up my ass lately, I don't know how anyone else has been." She was missing her usual conversational bite. Roderich only barely recognized its absence, so consumed with exhaustion and paranoia as he was. His mind failed to supply an acceptably insulting response.

"I haven't spoken to Antonio lately, not since we split up. He has the little one to take care of now anyway, Lovino."

"Who?"

"South Italy. I didn't want him, so I let Antonio have him."

"I bet that did wonders for the kid's self-esteem."

"Pardon?"

She waved her comment off. "Nothing. Go on. Francis."

Roderich cleared his throat. "Right. Francis. He's been preoccupied with the New World lately. He has his own cluster of colonies over there, not to mention Arthur's rascal has taken a shine to him. There's a storm brewing. Arthur is understandably disturbed. He's treated the child well; he doesn't understand why he would be so unhappy."

"Have you met the kid?"

"No. I don't even know his name."

"It's Alfred. He's pretty…unique. He hardly came up to my knees when I last saw him – some diplomatic trading hanky-panky about fifty years back – but he had this…shine in his eyes. I'm not surprised he's making a fuss. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to break away from England entirely, make his own country and all."

Roderich scoffed. "I highly doubt it. America is a small, pathetic land populated by religious rejects, social outcasts, and uncivilized natives. England is a powerful kingdom, I dare say stronger than either of us in our current states. Certainly, his navy supersedes our wildest imaginations of our own. It would be a death sentence."

"I don't – " her sentence was interrupted by a lengthy yawn and the cracking of her spine " – think so. He's got spirit."

"The better to crush him with. Arthur will break him in time. Anyway, I am pleased to say that I don't know much about what Ivan has been up to. He…" Roderich paused and pulled his brows together. He was unsure of how to properly express his emotions regarding the man. If he was truthful Maria would think him weak and laugh. If he lied too obtusely (and such a lie could only be obtuse) Maria would know, guess the truth, think him weak and laugh. "He…"

"Terrifies you?"

"I was going to say unnerves me."

"It's all the same. He's a freaky person. I wouldn't be surprised to find his own reflection is afraid of him."

Roderich moistened his lips. "Are you afraid of him?"

At first, Maria did not reply. She took such a long time that Roderich surmised he had crossed whatever line stood between them at this odd moment, where they were not Austria and Prussia or even Roderich and Maria, and were just talking like old acquaintances would. But then he heard the familiar smacking of lips and Maria spoke. "No. I'm not afraid of him. But given time, I might be. He's done…terrible things. And I…" She trailed off, and Roderich had the feeling that something deeply personal had been revealed to him.

"How's your ankle?" He asked after some time, concern absent from his tone.

"It's healing wrong." She said. "The bone is stitching together all sideways. The bleeding's stopped, but I'll have to re-break it when we get back."

He cringed. He had broken a fair amount of bones in his life, but never had one began to heal incorrectly. However, he had witness the re-breaking process in humans. They screamed louder than a woman in childbirth, and their bones did not begin to knit together before the breaking like Maria's would. "You could always do it now."

She scoffed. "I can't re-break my own ankle. I've never seen anyone who could."

Roderich bit his lower lip. He pictured Maria as she would be in the light. Slowly, he scooted toward her and took her foot into his lap. Maria offered only minimal protest and profanities. He ran his fingers over the contours of her foot. Indeed, the flesh wounds had sewn over, but he could feel the indents. She had stepped on more than a thorn; the entire bottom of her foot had been torn apart. Her ankle twisted in thee different directions, an arrangement unique to their species. A human would have passed out and died of shock by now, but Maria could not die. She shivered as he ran his fingers over the exposed bone around the junctures.

Maria had to know what was coming. Through the delusions of exhaustion she did not fight and he did not rationalize his actions. She was just Maria, just an unfortunate feminist with a broken ankle. He was just Roderich, haughty aristocrat with a softer soul than he liked to admit.

He took the base of her foot in one hand, the bottom of her leg in the other. As he twisted sharply the back of his mind noted the softness of her skin, though the thought was shattered by her piercing scream. He had never heard her scream so loudly before – he surmised she had never screamed so loudly before. She panted and the bleeding began again, this time from where the bone broke skin. Her foot hung limp but broken bone still poked out through the flesh. He did not give Maria time to prepare before he snapped it back the other way. The scream that tore from her throat was louder and sharper than the one prior and left her panting, exhausted, and bleeding profusely. She braced herself against the floor and removed her foot from her enemy's lap. As she did so her body twitched violently. She moved between consciousness and unconsciousness and then it was over, her body still.

Roderich doubted that she was asleep. Still, it seemed unlikely that she had passed out, and so he settled for convincing himself she was somewhere between the two.

The conversation between the two of them had been bizarre, a break from the norms that had never happed before. It would be a lie to say that the pair hadn't had civil moments in the past, but something new seemed to have been born between them, at least on Austria's side. Maria had told him something about herself and he was curious to find out more. She was afraid of Russia, or at least of what he could do. It was not something unique, as she had said mostly everyone was afraid of Russia, but it was unusual nonetheless.

A smash of thunder seemed to crack the sky open, and there was a fraction of a second before the canopy above the pair was pelted with rain, the pleasant roar of the water almost disguising the dread building in his stomach. That is, until the stream of water met his head and began to seep into his clothes, slick his skin, and plaster his hair to his forehead.

Maria did not wake up, cementing her unconsciousness.

The rain did not last for too long, but just long enough to saturate his clothing. With a sigh he tried to adjust himself so that most of it missed his eyes, but he eventually gave in and let the water run down his face.

It purified him of the bitterness of the day, relaxing his features and wiping the creases from his brow line. He allowed himself to drift off in the warm precipitation. He did not dream and his sleep was fitful.

**~Hetalia!~ **

He was roused some hours later by the soft rustling of grass and hushed mumble of a familiar voice. Slowly, his eyes fell open and light flickered over his retina. The forest was much less intimidating in the morning. The Hungarian presence was also a reassurance that fate was once again calling him favorite.

Slowly, Roderich pushed himself out of his rather embarrassing sleeping position and onto his bottom. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes before addressing the man. "Elias."

Hungary turned around, a pair of bright green orbs partially obscured by a pale Prussian ass. Roderich gasped and turned his eyes. "Oh! Master Roderich! Ahaha, I was just…collecting our mutual friend here." He shifted her over his shoulder, pulling the slip of fabric covering her cheeks down to semi-modesty.

"Good God, why are you picking her up? She's…not decent!" He paused, then added as an afterthought; "She's not fighting. Is she still…"

He nodded, rising to his feet and stretching out his back. Maria, hanging from his shoulder, hung as limply as a doll, her head banging against his back, her hair swaying gently to tickle the crooks of his knees. Hungary carried her like a sack of potatoes; his large frame was more than capable of carrying the both of them, Roderich noted, though he would never actually ask for such a condolence.

Hungary extended a hand, which Roderich took gratefully. "Yeah, she's out. Unconscious. Not dead, but close. What happened to her?"

"She broke her ankle. When it started healing improperly I had e to re-break it in two places."

The Magyar whistled, the small space between his bottom front teeth accentuating the sound. He grabbed her leg roughly and lifted it up to see. The skin was pink and fresh – newly grown and thin – and it was still slightly misshapen. Undoubtedly it was still twisted. It would be a day or two before it was healed completely. He dropped the foot and shrugged his shoulders, causing the limp Prussian to bounce, before gesturing through the woods for Roderich to follow.

"How did you find us?" he asked after a while. The journey back was far less intimidating the journey too. He surmised it was because he trusted the man who was leading, but it could have been because Maria was unconscious and he no longer had any reason to fear bodily harm from her.

"Lady Maria Theresa, she was worried you'd followed Gil into the woods. So she sent me after the two of you. I'd guessed this rascal would have gotten herself in over her head. Wish is inflated like a balloon with ego, so I'm not surprised she got the two of you lost." His tone when speaking to Roderichwas nearly always professional and discretionary; here, in the woods, with a mouthy Prussian over his shoulder, Hungary allowed a bit of who he had been before his days with the aristocrat to shine through. A tiny glimmer in his eyes and the slight pull on his lips spoke of mischief.

"Gil?" Roderichasked. Hungary waved the comment off and Austria went on. "Were they quite so worried as to send a…search party? I'm grateful you've found us, granted, I was afraid we'd be trapped here for God knows how long, but I don't want this getting out as to – "

"I know, I know. It _is _just a tad embarrassing, isn't it Sir? You can't manage yourself on your own territory. In the company of a lady no less." The Magyar took a step forward, motioning with his head the direction the two were to travel in. Roderich followed willfully, finding the path Hungary had traveled to be far more amiable than the haphazard path Maria had thundered through.

Light divided and spread though tiny droplets of water, rainbows of color splayed across leaves, bark, dirt. It was beautiful, and Roderich allowed himself the tiny satisfaction that the beauty was _Austria_, a part of him. "Just a tad. But I shall tell you, and be sure you remember, Elias, because I won't be saying it again, that creature is no lady." He pointed a crooked finger at the body hanging from the man's shoulder. Hungary contorted his neck to see properly. It popped with a tiny crack, and he rubbed the sore spot with his free hand.

He chuckled lightly, patting her behind with a familiar fondness that made Roderich blush. "Believe me, I know how unladylike she can be. But she's got all the lady bits, take that one from an expert." He winked, wagged his eye brows, rolled his tongue coquettishly across his lower lip. Blood rose to Roderich's cheeks and Hungary laughed, shaking Maria's hair and bouncing her body off his firm back. "You should see your face, Sir."

"I…I've never heard anyone…say it like…"

"Yeah, that's what Maria calls it. We would walk through town and she would point at the prostitutes and say 'Look at them, _they've _got their girly bits,'. It was funnier then, believe me. Although," he pushed her farther down his back, readjusting his hold around the crook of her knees, "her breasts are bigger than I remember them being."

Roderich stuttered: "W-why would you remember them at all?" His face darkened; he was not blushing for his modestly and certainly not Maria's, but he was supremely uncomfortable discussing the female body in general. His knowledge of it was regrettably limited and his own prudishness was a source of embarrassment.

"I'm intimately aquatinted with this body." The Hungarian chapped his lips and shook his head. "You will be too, soon enough." He said it under his breath but it was obvious he had intended for Roderich to hear.

A bird cawed above and the bespecticled aristocrat tilted his head, shielding his eyes with a hand. He watched its shadow as it glided over the canopy of leaves. It wrinkled and compressed, bulged and swelled as it traveled above the unsteady surface. It was large, clearly, with a wide wingspan and a large body. A loud shriek caused him to cringe; Hungary continued onward, twirling Maria's bicorn hat with his free hand, and the body of the creature twitched, as if the cry had pecked at her soul. "What exactly is that supposed to mean, Elias?" It did not come out as condescendingly as he had intended it to.

Loose, relaxed, and in his element, Hungary was uninhibited, freer than he was trapped in the manor like the manservant he was. "You'll see." The bird cawed again. He paid it no mind, not even when the woman over his shoulder began to stir. "But I don't guarantee you'll like it."

A knot formed in the pit of his stomach. He clenched it with a dirty, gnarled hand and wondered if this was what ulcers felt like.

**A/N: Yay! So, whatcha think? Please let me know in a review. I read them all and love them 3 Also, I don't have anyone on this side of the computer screen who reads this so I need feedback to know if I'm conveying everything I hope I am. I love to hear ideas, so if you have any go ahead and let me know - who knows, I may use them ;)**

**Thank you for reading! **


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